“How on earth did she know that?”
“I wish I could tell you. But consider. If the safe had been robbed last night, Mrs. Plant’s jewels would have disappeared with the other valuables, wouldn’t they? That is, assuming that they had ever been there. Well, there’s her answer to us. ‘Oh, yes, my jewels were there, and that’s why I wanted to get at the safe; but they’ve been stolen with everything else, and that’s why they’re not there now.’ See?”
“Yes, but what I want to know is, how did she find out that the safe had been robbed and her story to us would hold water after all?”
“And that’s exactly what I want to know, too, my excellent Alec. If we only knew that, we should have advanced a long way to the solution of the mystery. All that we can say definitely is that, some time between our finding her in the library and lunch time, information must have reached her about what happened to the safe last night. It seems to me that Mrs. Plant is going to find herself in a very awkward position rather soon.”
“But why do you think Mrs. Plant wanted to open the safe this morning, if there’s no truth in her tale?”
“Obviously there must have been something inside that she badly wanted to get hold of. Equally obviously she now either has got hold of it, or knows that it’s in safe keeping. And then we get back to Jefferson again. He’s been going through exactly the same sequence of emotions as Mrs. Plant. What do you make of that?”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that Jefferson and Mrs. Plant are in league together, are you?”
“What other conclusion is there? They’re both anxious to get something out of that safe before the police open it, and they’re both palpably worried to death over something. Yet at one o’clock they’re both smiling away to themselves as if a tremendous load had been taken off their minds. I’m afraid that they’re not only in league with each other, but with a mysterious third person as well. How else can you account for their behaviour?”
“Good Lord! You don’t mean that they’re acting with—with the murderer, do you?”
“It looks to me uncommonly like it,” said Roger gravely. “After all, he’s the only person, so far as we know, who could have enlightened them about the safe.”
“But it’s out of the question!” Alec burst out impulsively. “Jefferson—I don’t know anything about him, though I should certainly have set him down as quite a decent fellow and a sahib, even if he is a bit reserved. But Mrs. Plant! My dear chap, you’re absolutely off the rails there. Of all the obviously straightforward and honest people in the world, I should have said that Mrs. Plant was the most. Oh, you must be on the wrong tack!”
“I only wish I were,” Roger returned seriously. “Three hours ago I should have said that the idea of Mrs. Plant being mixed up in a murder was not only unthinkable, but ludicrous. I’ve always thought her a charming woman, and, as you say, absolutely sincere. Certainly not a happy woman (one doesn’t know anything about that husband of hers, by the way; he may be a bad egg); in fact, a woman with a good deal of sorrow in her life, I should say. But absolutely as straight as a die. Yet what can one think now? Facts speak louder than opinions. And the facts are only too plain.”
“I don’t care,” said Alec obstinately. “If you’re trying to mix Mrs. Plant up in this affair, you’re making a hopeless mistake, Roger. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I hope you’re right, Alec,” Roger said dryly. “By the way, I think I want to have a word with the lady. Oh, I’m not going to tax her with the murder or anything,” he added with a smile, observing the look on Alec’s face. “But I think she said at lunch that she was expecting to leave here this afternoon. Of course that’s out of the question. She was the last person to see Stanworth alive, and she’ll be wanted to give evidence at the inquest. The inspector must have forgotten to tell her. Let’s go and see what she’s got to say about it.”
Somewhat unwillingly Alec accompanied Roger on his quest. He did not attempt to make any secret of his distaste for this aspect of his new role. To hunt down a man who deserves no mercy and expects none is one thing; to hunt down a charming lady is very much another.
Mrs. Plant was sitting in a garden chair on a shady part of the lawn. There was a book in her lap, but she was staring abstractedly at the grass before her and her thoughts were evidently very far away. Hearing their footsteps she glanced up quickly and greeted the two with her usual quiet, rather sad smile.
“Have you come to tell me that Inspector Mansfield has arrived?” she asked, perfectly naturally.
Roger threw himself casually on the ground just in front of her.
“No, he hasn’t come yet,” he replied easily. “Very hot out here, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is. But the heat doesn’t worry me, I’m glad to say. I had enough of it in the Sudan to inure me to anything that this country can produce.”
“You’re lucky then. Alec, why on earth don’t you lie down and be comfortable? Never stand up when you can sit down instead. By the way, Mrs. Plant, I suppose you’ll be staying over for the inquest tomorrow, won’t you?”
“Oh, no. I shall be off this afternoon, Mr. Sheringham.”
Roger glanced up. “But surely you’ll be wanted to give evidence? You were the last person to see
