“Thank you so much, but I think I can make shift with Paul-Pierre and Neil. Richard has already talked to me.”
“He’s a good chap, is old Richard. We shall miss him when he goes.”
Dame Beatrice went first to Miss Yale’s lecture-room and found Neil upbraiding that formidable lady as he ‘took back’ the last few rows of what appeared to be a Fair Isle sweater in the making.
“I forbade ye to go on wi’ it when I wisna by tae see ye were daeing it richt,” he was saying sternly.
“Sorry,” said Miss Yale. “Thought I’d got the hang of the pattern by now.”
The door was wide open, but Dame Beatrice tapped on it politely before she advanced into the room.
“So very sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but as soon as Neil is at liberty I would be glad if he would spare me a moment.”
“I’ll come the noo,” said Neil, laying aside the knitting, “gin this disobedient woman will agree tae leave well alane until I will be back. I’m thinking ye’re wanting to speir at me about wee Kirkie,” he added, as he and Dame Beatrice reached the open air and began to cross the Warden’s garden. “Is it true the puir mannie is deid?”
“Quite true, I’m afraid. As he slept in your hall of residence, I wondered whether you could suggest any reason why somebody murdered him.”
“Och, then, there’s mony that micht hae had reason for it. Aye, and the tutors, too, for the matter o’ that.”
“Did any of you—I am not asking for names—but did any of you ever leave your hall of residence at night?”
“Why would we be daeing that?”
“I can think of no reason, but I thought perhaps you could tell me how or why Kirk was not in bed the night before last.”
“Kirk had a bet he wad sleep wi’ ane o’ the lasses, but we a’ kenned that wis naething but wishfu’ thinking. Save for mysel’, they’re a’ too scared o’ yon auld body ye took me from. Losh! But she’s a deevil when she’s roused up!”
“But Mr. Kirk apparently did not think so, if he took on such a wager.”
“Did he not? I’m thinking that he did. All the same, gin ane o’ the lasses was willing—and some would be willing to bed doon wi’ Kirk sooner than wi’ naebody at a’, ye ken—the way wad be tae bribe a servant tae leave the back door o’ the hoose open so that a man could be slipping up the back stairs and no tae be ganging past the draygon’s room the way she wad be hearing him.”
“But the students have no money for bribes, or so I was given to understand.”
“Kirk had siller and tae spare. His mither sent it to the mon Jones, I’ll be thinking. Aye, Kirk and Jones was awfu’ thick. Weel, noo, seeing that the baith o’ them are deid, there’s nae harm telling ye. Kirk was oot of our hut the nicht Jones was killed, as well as the nicht ye’re speiring aboot.”
“Trying to get into the College building?”
“I dinna ken. It micht be that, or, more likely, it micht be tae get into Jones’s garage.”
“Why should he want to do that?”
“The drink, ye ken, was still in Jones’s car. The gomerils wha shut Jones up didna ken aboot the bottles—Kirk’s bottles that Jones ordered for him at the pub and Kirk’s folk paid for—and the seven of them in the hut were no sae wrang in the heid that they wad gang against the whole College and let Jones oot.”
“I thought there were nine of you in the hut.”
“Richard and mysel’ we didna drink or smoke, ye ken.”
“How about Paul-Pierre?”
“Och! That yin!” said Neil. He laughed unpleasantly. “Aweel,” he went on, “I’ve told ye a’ I ken, so I’ll be ganging back to the auld draygon and her knitting.” Without more ado he turned about and broke into a trot as he headed back to the house. Dame Beatrice cackled. She felt she had done well by beginning her line of enquiry with Neil, but that it would be as well to get his evidence confirmed. As she turned back towards the main College building an eruption of students occurred. She stood out of their way and collared Paul-Pierre as he came abreast of her.
“Madame?” said Paul-Pierre, stopping politely in his tracks.
“When you have had your lunch, monsieur, I would be glad of a word with you.”
“You would grill me, as that policeman did?”
“You may have some knowledge which you would be willing to share with me, perhaps.”
“With you, madame, I would be willing to share
“Splendid. In the sitting-room which used to belong to Mr. Jones, then, if you will be so good.”
“Parfaitement, madame. A quelle heure?”
“A quatorze heures, s’il vous plait.”
“Il me plait bien. Au revoir, chere madame. C’est depuis deux annees que je suis invite au salon d’une duchesse.” With an exaggerated gesture he seized Dame Beatrice’s yellow claw and raised it to his lips.
“Why did you knife your science master?” asked Dame Beatrice, when they met again at two. Paul-Pierre waved eloquent, spade-like hands.
“We disagreed,” he said, “and I was right. He asks me to define the nature of cathode rays. He does not accept
