come by the same train. Mrs. Revel came by the 7.25, and another foreign-locking gentleman came by it too, one with a bald head and a hook nose. Mrs. Revel’s maid came by the 8.56.”
Johnson paused, out of breath.
“And there was no one for the Cricketers?”
Johnson shook his head.
“He must have come by car then,” said the inspector. “Johnson, make a note to institute inquiries at the Cricketers on your way back. We want to know all about any strangers. He was very sunburnt, that gentleman. Likely as not, he’s come from foreign parts too.”
The inspector nodded his head with great sagacity, as though to imply that that was the sort of wideawake man he was—not to be caught napping under any consideration.
The car passed in through the Park gates of Chimneys. Descriptions of that historic place can be found in any guide book. It is also No. 3 in Historic Homes of England, price 21s. On Thursdays, char-à-bancs come over from Middlingham and view those portions of it which are open to the public. In view of all these facilities, to describe Chimneys would be superfluous.
They were received at the door by a white-headed butler whose demeanour was perfect.
“We are not accustomed,” it seemed to say, “to having murder committed within these walls. But these are evil days. Let us meet disaster with perfect calm, and pretend with our dying breath that nothing out of the usual has occurred.”
“His lordship,” said the butler, “is expecting you. This way, if you please.”
He led them to a small cosy room which was Lord Caterham’s refuge from the magnificence elsewhere, and announced them.
“The police, my lord, and Dr. Cartwright.”
Lord Caterham was pacing up and down in a visibly agitated state.
“Ha! inspector, you’ve turned up at last. I’m thankful for that. How are you, Cartwright? This is the very devil of a business, you know. The very devil of a business.”
And Lord Caterham, running his hands through his hair
72
