didn't get home until after the rain had stopped. Just before tea. A quarter to five. Laura was toasting the scones.'
'And had you been out also, Mrs. Easterbrook?'
The pretty face looked more like a weasel's than ever. Her eyes had a trapped look.
'No – no, I just sat listening to the wireless. I didn't go out. Not then. I'd been out earlier. About – about half-past three. Just for a little walk. Not far.'
She looked as though she expected more questions, but Craddock said quietly:
'That's all, Mrs. Easterbrook.'
He went on: 'These statements will be typed out. You can read them and sign them if they are substantially correct.'
Mrs. Easterbrook looked at him with sudden venom.
'Why don't you ask the others where they were? That Haymes woman? And Edmund Swettenham? How do you know he was asleep indoors? Nobody saw him.'
Inspector Craddock said quietly:
'Miss Murgatroyd, before she died, made a certain statement. On the night of the hold-up here, someone was absent from this room. Someone who was supposed to have been in the room all the time. Miss Murgatroyd told her friend the names of the people she did see. By a process of elimination, she made the discovery that there was someone she did not see.'
'Nobody could see anything,' said Julia.
'Murgatroyd could,' said Miss Hinchliffe, speaking suddenly in her deep voice. 'She was over there behind the door, where Inspector Craddock is now. She was the only person who could see anything of what was happening.'
'Aha! That is what you think, is it!' demanded Mitzi.
She made one of her dramatic entrances, flinging open the door and almost knocking Craddock sideways. She was in a frenzy of excitement.
'Ah, you do not ask Mitzi to come in here with the others, do you, you stiff policeman? I am only Mitzi! Mitzi in the kitchen! Let her stay in the kitchen where she belongs! But I tell you that Mitzi, as well as anyone else, and perhaps better, yes, better, can see things. Yes, I see things. I see something the night of the burglary. I see something and I do not quite believe it, and I hold my tongue till now. I think to myself I will not tell what it is I have seen, not yet. I will wait.'
'And when everything had calmed down, you meant to ask for a little money from a certain person, eh?' said Craddock.
Mitzi turned on him like an angry cat.
'And why not? Why look down your nose? Why should I not be paid for it if I have been so generous as to keep silence? Especially if some day there will be money – much much money. Oh! I have heard things – I know what goes on. I know this – Pippemmer – this secret society of which she-' she flung a dramatic finger towards Julia – 'is an agent. Yes, I would have waited and asked for money – but now I am afraid. I would rather be safe. For soon, perhaps, someone will kill me. So I will tell what I know.'
'All right then,' said the Inspector sceptically. 'What do you know?'
'I tell you.' Mitzi spoke solemnly. 'On that night I am not in the pantry cleaning silver as I say – I am already in the dining-room when I hear the gun go off. I look through the keyhole. The hall it is black, but the gun go off again and the torch it falls – and it swings round as it falls – and I see her. I see her there close to him, with the gun in her hand. I see Miss Blacklog.'
'Me?' Miss Blacklog sat up in astonishment. 'You must be mad!'
'But that's impossible,' cried Edmund. 'Mitzi couldn't have seen Miss Blacklog.'
Craddock cut in and his voice had the corrosive quality of a deadly acid.
'Couldn't she, Mr. Swettenham? And why not? Because it wasn't Miss Blacklog who was standing there with the gun? It was you, wasn't it?'
'I? – of course not – what the hell-'
'You took Colonel Easterbrook's revolver. You fixed up the business with Rudi Scherz – as a good joke. You had followed Patrick Simmons into the far room and when the lights went out, you slipped out through the carefully oiled door. You shot at Miss Blacklog and then you killed Rudi Scherz. A few seconds later you were back in the drawing-room clicking your lighter.'
For a moment Edmund seemed at a loss for words, then he spluttered out:
'The whole idea is monstrous. Why me? What earthly motive had I got?'
'If Miss Blacklog dies before Mrs. Goedler, two people inherit, remember. The two we know of as Pip and Emma. Julia Simmons has turned out to be Emma-'
'And you think I'm Pip?' Edmund laughed. 'Fantastic – absolutely fantastic! I'm about the right age nothing else. And I can prove to you, you damned fool, that I am Edmund Swettenham. Birth certificate, schools, university – everything.'
'He isn't Pip.' The voice came from the shadows in the corner. Phillipa Haymes came forward, her face pale. 'I'm Pip, Inspector.'
'You, Mrs. Haymes?'
'Yes. Everybody seems to have assumed that Pip was a boy – Julia knew, of course, that her twin was another girl – I don't know why she didn't say so this afternoon-'
'Family solidarity,' said Julia. 'I suddenly realised who you were. I'd had no idea till that moment.'
'I'd – had the same idea as Julia did,' said Phillipa, her voice trembling a little. 'After I – lost my husband and the war was over, I wondered what I was going to do. My mother died many years ago. I found out about my Goedler relations. Mrs. Goedler was dying and at her death the money would go to a Miss Blacklog. I found out where Miss Blacklog lived and I – I came here. I took a job with Mrs. Lucas. I hoped that, since this Miss Blacklog was an elderly woman without relatives, she might, perhaps, be willing to help. Not me, because I could work, but help with Harry's education. After all, it was Goedler money and she'd no one particular of her own to spend it on.
'And then,' Phillipa spoke faster, it was as though, now her long reserve had broken down, she couldn't get the words out fast enough, 'that hold-up happened and I began to be frightened. Because it seemed to me that the only possible person with a motive for killing Miss Blacklog was me. I hadn't the least idea who Julia was – we aren't identical twins and we're not much alike to look at. No, it seemed as though I was the only one bound to be suspected.'
She stopped and pushed her fair hair back from her face, and Craddock suddenly realised that the faded snapshot in the box of letters must have been a photograph of Phillipa's mother. The likeness was undeniable. He knew too why that mention of closing and unclosing hands had seemed familiar – Phillipa was doing it now.
'Miss Blacklog has been good to me. Very very good to me – I didn't try to kill her. I never thought of killing her. But all the same, I'm Pip.' She added, 'You see, you needn't suspect Edmund any more.'
'Needn't I?' said Craddock. Again there was that acid biting tone in his voice. 'Edmund Swettenham's a young man who's fond of money. A young man, perhaps, who would like to marry a rich wife. But she wouldn't be a rich wife unless Miss Blacklog died before Mrs. Goedler. And since it seemed almost certain that Mrs. Goedler would die before Miss Blacklog, well – he had to do something about it – didn't you, Mr. Swettenham?'
'It's a damned lie!' Edmund shouted.
And then, suddenly, a sound rose on the air. It came from the kitchen – a long unearthly shriek of terror.
'That isn't Mitzi!' cried Julia.
'No,' said Inspector Craddock, 'it's someone who's murdered three people…'
Chapter 22
THE TRUTH
