shells in it; but they believed it had recently been fired.
Nugent gave brief orders about it (they were to go over it for fingerprints; he would talk to the handyman), then he looked at me. “Your hunter,” he said.
And then Nugent sent for Alexia and she, too, came as the others had done and sat there-composed and calm but with a face so pinched about the nostrils, so curiously hard about the mouth and eyes that she looked ill and not at all beautiful. And she said flatly (as flatly as Nicky had made his own denials about the vase) that she knew nothing of the checks. Said it straight out, promptly, and looked as if she were going to die then and there. Which struck me as singular; it was the first time I had seen Alexia look as if any of it really affected her.
Nugent persisted. “Did you ever see these checks before?”
“No.”
“Do you know what they were for?”
“No.”
“Fifteen thousand dollars is a substantial sum of money.”
“Yes. But I knew nothing of Conrad’s affairs. Besides, as you see, these were written in 1938. Before my marriage.”
“Mrs. Brent, are you willing to swear that you did not take these checks from your husband’s desk and put them in the cupboard of your room?”
“Certainly,” said Alexia quickly.
“When did you last open the cupboard?”
There was a short pause. Then Alexia, her eyes shadowed and secretive, said she didn’t know. “Perhaps several days ago. I really can’t remember. Except that if the checks had been there when I last looked, I would have seen them.”
“Do you know Frederic Miller?” asked Nugent pointblank.
“No,” said Alexia.
19
AND THEY COULD GET nothing else out of her. Anybody in the house, she said, could have known of the little cupboard. She gave me a long, bright look when she was told that I had found the checks and there was something in her look that actually started a kind of chill up my back. Anybody could have put the checks there, just as anybody-again she looked at me fixedly and brightly-could have taken them. Conrad’s desk was never locked. And when questioned about Conrad’s former sympathy for the German cause she said that, of course, everyone knew where his sympathies had lain.
“Had he ever been interested in the various Bund organizations?” asked Nugent.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you remember the clipping you said you took from his desk? At the time you said you saw the box of medicine.”
“Yes. Certainly.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes. I read it aloud. He asked me to.”
“Can you remember what it was about?”
“I told you. It concerned the arrest of some members of the Bund.”
“Their names were given, I suppose.”
She hesitated but only briefly. “No, I believe not. I really don’t remember. So much has happened since then. And it was not important.”
“What did you do with it?”
“With the clipping? Why, I-really I don’t know. My husband asked me to read it and I did. I believe I gave it to him then. Or perhaps I put it on a table. We were having coffee in the library. I don’t remember. Why are you asking me about it?”
“Who was in the room at the time?”
Her slender black eyebrows drew together. “I’m not sure that I remember that, exactly, either. My husband and I, of course. It was immediately after dinner. Mrs. Chivery was there. I suppose my brother and Peter Huber were there, too.”
“Can’t you remember definitely?”
She gave a little shrug. “That is as I remember it. I don’t believe I’d be able to swear to any one of them except, of course, my husband. But I think the other three were in the room.”
“Mrs. Brent, try to remember this. Was it your impression that anyone in the room had a special interest in hearing the clipping read?”
I could read nothing in her beautiful, delicate face. She said very promptly, “No one but my husband. And I’ve no idea why he was interested,” and looked at Nugent with a touch of silken and adroit defiance.
It did not, naturally, satisfy Nugent. He waited a moment and then said directly, “What about your brother?”
“My brother?” asked Alexia.
“It’s much better, Mrs. Brent, to answer me truthfully and as fully as you can. Much better for everybody, believe me.”
“But really…” Her voice was cool and polite; her eyebrows arched in delicate question. “But really, Lieutenant, my brother had nothing to do with the arrest of any members of any Bund. He has never had any sympathy for Germany. He is not interested in politics.”
“How old is your brother?”
Her voice was still cool, and polite. “My age, of course. Twenty-five.”
“He’s registered for the draft?”
“Certainly. I’ve forgotten his class. He can tell you.”
“You and your brother lived abroad for some time, didn’t you?”
“When we were children, yes. I don’t understand your question, Lieutenant.”
I was under a slight and I trusted erroneous impression that the Lieutenant didn’t know exactly what he was getting at either; he only kept digging in the hope of unearthing something. He said, “What of Peter Huber?”
Craig started to speak, but Alexia replied, “You know everything I know of him, Lieutenant. He’s been here about a month. He’s waiting for his call to the army.”
“Let me see. According to his story he went to school in Southern California.”
“I believe so,” said Alexia. “Didn’t you check his statements? I understood that was part of your job.”
“You are quite right,” said Nugent, unruffled. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten his home. I mean the name of the town. What was it, Brent?”
“Pete’s home?” said Craig. “I don’t know. I know where he went to school. I think he lived somewhere near Monterey. I’m not sure. Does it matter?”
“Do you remember his most recent address?” asked Nugent.
“Well, he had to come from somewhere,” said Craig. “I think he said Hollywood. He was trying to get a job in the movies. I do remember that. I suppose a Hollywood address is the logical surmise in that case. Besides that’s where he knew Bill Sheridan.”
“Bill Sheridan!” said Nugent. “Who’s he?”
“Fellow Pete knows. And I know. Went to school with Pete; that is, university. He-Bill, I mean-was in my class at prep school. Yes, I’m sure Pete came from Hollywood here.”
“Is that your impression, Mrs. Brent?”
“Really,” said Alexia. “If you’ve forgotten, I’d suggest your asking him. Peter is nothing to me, you know. I never saw him before Conrad met him at the inn, in the village, and brought him here.”
“That was about a month ago.”
“Yes,” said Alexia. “Lieutenant, why are you asking
