“Oh, if you do, I shall, too,” Alec replied gloomily. “But I’d much rather we both chucked it.”
“That’s out of the question,” Roger said briskly. “Couldn’t dream of it. Well, if you’re going to stick to it with me, you’d better be present at my chat with Mrs. Plant. Let’s stroll round to the drawing room and see if we can find an excuse to speak with her alone.”
“All right, then,” Alec agreed unhappily. “If we must.”
Luck was on their side. Mrs. Plant was alone in the drawing room. Roger drew a chair up so as to face her squarely and commented casually on Lady Stanworth’s absence. Alec turned his back on them and gazed moodily out of the window, as if washing his hands of the whole affair.
“Lady Stanworth?” Mrs. Plant repeated. “Oh, she’s gone in to help Major Jefferson, I think. In the morning room.”
Roger looked at her steadily. “Mrs. Plant,” he said in a low voice, “you’re quite certain you won that bet of ours at dinner, aren’t you?”
“Certain?” asked Mrs. Plant uneasily. “Of course I am. Why?”
“You didn’t forget any room that you went into yesterday evening by any chance?” Roger pursued firmly. “The morning room, the storeroom, or—the library, for instance?”
Mrs. Plant stared at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean, Mr. Sheringham?” she asked in somewhat heightened tones. “Of course I didn’t forget.”
“You went into none of those rooms, then?”
“Certainly not!”
“H’m! The bet was a bottle of scent and a handkerchief, wasn’t it?” Roger remarked musingly, feeling in his pocket. “Well, here’s the handkerchief. I found it where you left it—on the couch in the library!”
XX
Mrs. Plant Proves Disappointing
For a moment Mrs. Plant sat perfectly rigid. Then she put out her hand and mechanically took the handkerchief that Roger was still holding out to her. Her face had gone quite white and her eyes were wide with terror.
“Please don’t be alarmed,” said Roger gently, touching her hand reassuringly. “I don’t want to frighten you, or anything like that; but don’t you think it would be better if you told me the truth? You might get into very serious trouble with the police, you know, if it came out that you had been concealing any important fact. Really, I only want to help you, Mrs. Plant.”
The colour drained back into her face at that, though her breath still came in gasps and she continued to stare at him fearfully.
“But—but it wasn’t anything—important,” she said jerkily. “It was only—” She paused again.
“Don’t tell me if you’d rather not, of course,” Roger said quickly. “But I can’t help feeling that I might be able to advise you. It’s a serious matter to mislead the police, even in the most trivial details. Take your time and think it over.” He rose to his feet and joined Alec at the window.
When Mrs. Plant spoke again, her composure was largely restored.
“Really,” she said, with a nervous little laugh, “it’s absurd for me to make such a fuss over a trifle, but I have got a horror of giving evidence—morbid, if you like, but none the less genuine. So I tried to minimise my last conversation with Mr. Stanworth as much as possible, in the hope that the police would attach so little importance to it that they wouldn’t call on me to give evidence.”
Roger seated himself on the arm of a chair and swung his leg carelessly.
“But you’ll be called in any case, so why not tell exactly what happened?”
“Yes, but—but I didn’t know that then, you see; not when I made my statement. I didn’t think they’d call me at all then. Or I hoped they wouldn’t.”
“I see. Still, I think it would be better not to conceal anything as things are, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes. I quite see that now. Quite. It’s very good of you to help me like this, Mr. Sheringham. When—when did you find my handkerchief?”
“Just before I went up to change for dinner. It was between two of those loose cushions on the couch.”
“So you knew I must have been in the library? But how did you know what time I was there?”
“I didn’t. In fact, I don’t know,” Roger smiled. “All I know is that it must have been after dinner, because the maid always tidies the room at that time.”
Mrs. Plant nodded slowly. “I see. Yes, that was clever of you. I didn’t leave anything else there, did I?” she added, again with that nervous little laugh.
“No, nothing else,” Roger replied smoothly. “Well, have you thought it over?”
“Oh, of course I’ll tell you, Mr. Sheringham. It’s really too ridiculous. You remember when you passed us in the hall? Well, Mr. Stanworth was speaking to me about some roses he’d had sent up to my room. And then I asked him if he’d put my jewels in his safe for me, as I—”
“But I thought you said this morning that you asked him that the other day?” Roger interrupted.
Mrs. Plant laughed lightly. She was quite herself again.
“Yes, I did; and I told the inspector it was yesterday morning. Wasn’t it dreadful of me? That’s why I was so upset when you told me this afternoon that I should have to give evidence. I was so afraid they’d ask me a lot of questions and find out that I was in the library, after all, when I hadn’t said anything about it, and that I had told the inspector a lie about the jewels. In fact, you frightened me terribly, Mr. Sheringham. I had dreadful visions of passing the rest of my days in prison for telling fibs to the police.”
“I’m very sorry,” Roger smiled. “But I didn’t know, did I?”
“Of course you didn’t. It was my own fault. Well, anyhow, Mr. Stanworth very kindly said
