have been if she could have forgotten the fact that she wanted something desperately from Lady Kenton. She was anxious to humour Emma, but her sympathies in the coming interview would be with the Inspector, who would doubtless get through a trying half-hour with admirable patience.
The Inspector looked sprucer than ever. His shoes were polished until they were almost blue, his suit was perfectly cut, his tie, socks, and shirt matched well, and his trim moustache, yellowed in the centre with the smoke of his interminable cigarettes, was freshly cropped.
He bowed to the two ladies so punctiliously that the older woman was slightly appeased, and he addressed himself to Emma Kenton. The smile on his lips was exactly right.
“I very much dislike bothering you, m’lady, but there are one or two points . . .”
Lady Kenton’s brow was dark, and the question she had been preparing from the moment that Bristow had been announced seemed to burst from her.
“Why wasn’t I told, Inspector?”
Bristow obviously expected something of the sort, and he answered quickly.
“You mean about the robbery, m’lady?”
“What else could I mean?” demanded Lady Kenton. “It’s outrageous, Inspector, outrageous! I should have been told immediately — immediately!”
“I don’t quite see,” said Bristow gently, “how it was necessary to worry you before, m’lady.”
Lorna silently applauded him, and her regard for his diplomacy rose considerably. Bristow, as Mannering could have told her, was a likeable man.
“But why . . .” began Lady Kenton.
Bristow interrupted, without apparent intent to stop her.
“I understand it was a gift from you to Mrs Wagnall,” he said, and Lorna had a slight shock; it was the first time she had heard Marie Overndon given her new tide. “And as it was that lady’s property, it was not a matter I could very well report to you, m’lady.”
Lady Kenton looked at him doubtfully. Her chief complaint was that she had not been consulted the moment the robbery had been discovered, and now Bristow had disarmed her completely. But she would not give in without a fight.
“My interest was obvious,” she said coldly.
The next move was plainly Bristow’s, and he handled it deftly.
“Of course,” he said, “and I am hoping you will be able to help me a great deal. It’s just possible,” he added before the Dowager could interrupt, “that the robbery took place while — or immediately after — you were in the room with the presents, m’lady. There are one or two questions . . .”
“Questions?” snapped Lady Kenton.
“That I would appreciate your answering,” said the Inspector, gently but firmly.
Looking at the other woman, Lorna told herself that Emma was getting old. The Dowager looked careworn and a little faded at that moment. The questions threatened to bother her.
The Inspector was wondering whether it was possible that this little old woman could be the Baron. He was also beginning to tell himself that it wasn’t, and he doubted even whether he had ever seriously thought so.
“Just what happened when you slipped against the table?” he asked.
Lady Kenton clasped her hands together, and her expression was acid.
“Surely you’ve heard all that could be said about that?”
“It’s necessary,” said Bristow, “to check up on every statement, m’lady. A slight difference between two separate statements might mean a great deal. You appreciate that, I am sure.”
Her ladyship nodded now, as if to suggest that she fully understood the reason for the Inspector’s call, but didn’t consider it a sufficient one.
“I slipped,” she said.
“Against what?”
“The table, of course.”
Bristow accepted the words patiently.
“What made you slip?” he asked next.
“I don’t know,” said her ladyship. “I just slipped.”
“But it isn’t likely that you fell over without striking something first,” said Bristow.
“I stubbed my foot on the table-leg,” said Lady Kenton, bristling.
The Inspector rubbed his chin, and Lorna thought that he was beginning to feel exasperated.
“That was what I understood,” he said, “but I don’t quite see how it was possible, Lady Kenton. We have examined the table, and there was nothing projecting from it to cause you to stumble. It is a period piece, supported by a centre leg only,”
“It might have been the carpet,” said Lady Kenton, annoyed beyond measure at discovering that the policeman knew a period piece when he saw one.
“It’s parquet flooring,” said the Inspector, “and it was not carpeted that day,”
