haste to prove that someone on his patch had done such a thing. By the same token, if it could have been laid at Mrs. Quarles's door, Padgett would have been pleased enough.
Glancing out the window as he drank his tea, Rutledge saw the Quarles motorcar passing down the High Street.
Mrs. Quarles on her way to fetch her son from Rugby?
He pitied the boy. The whole ugly story of the murder was common knowledge now, and there would be no way to protect him. It would have come out in the course of the trial, and the newspapers were bound to make much of the circumstances. But that was months away, not now while the boy's grief was raw.
Padgett came to find him before he'd finished his tea.
Rutledge swallowed his ire with the last of his toast and waited.
'We're not slack in our duty in Cambury,' Padgett said, sitting down. 'My men have been busy. It appears one Harold Quarles dined with Mr. Greer on Saturday evening. But not until seven o'clock.'
'I'm surprised that he didn't come to us with that information himself.'
'You're free to ask him. That brings us to another problem. Where was Quarles between the time he left Hallowfields and his arrival on Minton Street? It doesn't take that long to walk in from the estate, now, does it?'
Half an hour at most, in a leisurely stroll. Which would mean he could have reached the High Street as early as six o'clock.
Where was Quarles for nearly an hour? At the estate still? Sitting in the gatehouse cottage, waiting for someone? Or had he come into Cambury?
'He met someone on the way,' Rutledge answered Padgett. 'It's the only explanation that makes sense.'
'He was expecting to meet someone on the way. Or he'd have left later than he did.'
'Point taken. Why did he dine with Greer? I thought they disliked each other.'
'They do.'
Rutledge pushed his chair back. 'I'll want to pay a visit to Mr. Greer.'
'I thought you might.' Padgett, grinning, followed him out of the hotel.
The owner of the glove firm lived in a large house next but one to the High Street, with black iron gates and a handsome hedge setting it off.
Greer was just stepping out his door, on his way to his office, when the two policemen lifted the gate latch and started up the short walk.
Greer said, 'We will speak here, at the house,' as if he'd called the meeting, not the reverse.
A man of middle height with graying hair and an air of confidence, he waited for them to pass through the door before him and then shut it behind them. 'This way.'
He led them to a study at the back of the house, overlooking the side gardens. A bench in the grassy lawn stood beside a small pool, and a frog perched on the pool's edge. Set apart by trees, this appeared to be a retreat, and one of the long study windows opened on to it.
Greer took his chair behind the broad maple desk and gestured to the other two placed across from him.
'Well. This is to do with Harold Quarles. What is it you want to know?'
'He dined at your house on Saturday evening. What time did he arrive?'
'We had another guest, a Mr. Nelson. They came in together promptly at seven.' There was something in his tone of voice that told Rutledge he was not pleased about that.
'Did Mr. Nelson bring Quarles in from Hallowfields?'
'As to that, I don't know.'
'Did they leave at the same time?'
'No, Mr. Nelson remained here for another hour or more. He had a business proposition to put before us. Neither Quarles nor I approved of it. We both preferred to see Cambury stay as it is, rather than bring in new industry to the area. Mr. Nelson believed that the village could support two business enterprises and wanted our backing in presenting his concept to the town fathers.'
'And so he stayed on to try to convince you?'
'Quarles was adamant in his position. He said what he had to say early on, and then left. I expect Mr. Nelson had already put as much effort into persuading Quarles as he did afterward with me.'
'What sort of new industry?' Padgett wanted to know.
'He felt that gloves had seen their day, and that the up-and-coming field would be leather goods of a different sort. Valises, wallets, diaries-a long list of items. I think if Quarles had believed it would benefit me in any way, he'd have been against change on general principles. But I disliked the idea as well. For once,' he said, smiling wryly, 'we were actually in agreement about this matter.'
'You felt that Nelson met Quarles first, possibly driving him here, in order to bring him around to his position?'
'As Quarles left first and on foot, it's a natural assumption.'
'How did you know he left on foot?'
Greer flushed. 'I asked my butler.'
'As he was leaving, did Nelson follow Quarles into the street to finish the conversation between them?'
'No, of course not, I told you he'd stayed. He joined me in a glass of port, and continued to try to persuade me.'
'Do you think Mr. Nelson had any reason to wish Quarles harm? That he might have followed him back to Hallowfields, talked to him again, and in a fit of anger, attacked him?' It was Padgett's question now, and Greer turned to him in disgust.
'That's absurd. Nelson mentioned three villages he's interested in for his factory. We were the first he spoke to, because of my glove firm. He still had two others to visit. One of them has nearer access to the railway. It would suit his purpose much better. But there's less competition in Cambury, and I think that held a great appeal.' He shrugged. 'Labor would be cheaper here, you see, versus the convenience of the railway for shipping.'
'Is it possible that Quarles agreed with Mr. Nelson after all, and you went out as Quarles left and had words with him?' Rutledge asked.
'I don't pursue my guests into the street to harangue them.'
'But you failed to inform us that you'd seen the victim on the evening he was killed,' Rutledge said.
'I saw no reason to present myself at the police station just to tell them I'd had a dinner guest who later died. You found me soon enough, and as you can see, I was in no way involved with what happened to Harold Quarles.'
'Has your staff told you that not only was Quarles murdered, he was also put into the Christmas angel harness and hauled into the rafters of the tithe barn?'
No one had. They could see the shock in Greer's eyes, and the graying of the skin on his face.
'My good God!'
Rutledge waited, saying nothing.
After a moment, Greer went on, 'You suspect Nelson of having done such a thing? But how could he know the harness existed? He lives in Manchester.' Greer stirred uneasily, as if thinking that should it benefit Nelson to kill one of the objectors to his project, why not make it a clean sweep and kill both?
He reached for the telephone on his desk and asked to be connected to Manchester, and the firm of one R. S. Nelson.
They waited, and in due course, Nelson was brought to the telephone at the other end.
There was a brief conversation, as if Nelson thought Greer was calling to change his position. Then Greer said, 'No, I just wanted to ask if you'd spoken to Harold Quarles after you left me on Saturday evening? '
There was a reply at the other end.
Greer said, 'No reason in particular. I could see that he was not going to budge. I wondered if you'd felt otherwise.'
After a moment, grimacing, he said, 'Well, if you must know, Quarles was murdered that night. And the police are here asking if you or I know anything about that, as apparently we're the last people to have seen him alive.'
He listened, then said, 'I see. I'll wish you a good day.'
Hanging up the receiver with some force, Greer said, 'He informed me he had no need to turn to murder to
