'Where have you been just now?'
'Am I under arrest, Inspector?' It was a joke—I hoped he'd catch on.
'I was merely curious.'
He pulled a pipe from his jacket pocket, filled it, and struck a match. I watched as it burned steadily down towards his square fingertips.
'I went to the library,' I said.
He lit his pipe, then pointed its stem at Gladys.
'I don't see any books.'
'It was closed.'
'Ah,' he said.
There was a maddening calmness about the man. Even in the midst of murder he was as placid as if he were strolling in the park.
'I've spoken to Dogger,' he said, and I noticed that he kept his eyes on me to gauge my reaction.
'Oh, yes?' I said, but my mind was sounding the kind of 'Oogah!' warning they have on a submarine preparing to dive.
Careful! I thought. Watch your step. How much did Dogger tell him? About the strange man in the study? About the quarrel with Father? The threats?
That was the trouble with someone like Dogger: He was likely to break down for no reason whatsoever. Had he blabbed to the Inspector about the stranger in the study? Damn the man! Damn him!
'He says that you awakened him at about four A.M. and told him that there was a dead body in the garden. Is that correct?”
I held back a sigh of relief, almost choking in the process. Thank you, Dogger! May the Lord bless you and keep you and make his face to shine upon you, always! Good old faithful Dogger. I knew I could count on you.
'Yes,' I said. 'That's correct.'
'What happened then?'
'We went downstairs and out the kitchen door into the garden. I showed him the body. He knelt down beside it and felt for a pulse.'
'And how did he do that?'
'He put his hand on the neck—under the ear.'
'Hmm,' the Inspector said. 'And was there? Any pulse, I mean?'
'No.'
'How did you know that? Did he tell you?'
'No,' I said.
'Hmm,' he said again. 'Did you kneel down beside it too?'
'I suppose I could have. I don't think so. I don't remember.'
The Inspector made a note. Even without seeing it, I knew what it said: Query: Did D. (1) tell F. no pulse? (2) See F. kneel BB (Beside Body)?
'That's quite understandable,' he said. 'It must have been rather a shock.'
I brought to mind the image of the stranger lying there in the first light of dawn: the slight growth of whiskers on his chin, strands of his red hair shifting gently on the faint stirrings of the morning breeze, the pallor, the extended leg, the quivering fingers, that last, sucking breath. And that word, blown into my face… “
The thrill of it all!
'Yes,' I said, 'it was devastating.'
I HAD EVIDENTLY PASSED the test. Inspector Hewitt had gone into the kitchen where Sergeants Woolmer and Graves were busily setting up operations under a barrage of gossip and lettuce sandwiches from Mrs. Mullet.
As Ophelia and Daphne came down to lunch, I noticed with disappointment Ophelia's unusual clarity of complexion. Had my concoction backfired? Had I, through some freak accident of chemistry, produced a miracle facial cream?
Mrs. Mullet bustled in, grumbling as she set our soup and sandwiches on the table.
'It's not right,' she said. 'Me already behind my time, what with all this pother, and Alf expectin' me home, and all. The nerve of them, axin' me to dig that dead snipe out of the refuse bin,' she said with a shudder, '. so's they could prop it up and take its likeness. It's not right. I showed them the bin and told them if they wanted the carcass so bad they could jolly well dig it out themselves; I had lunch to make. Eat your sandwiches, dear. There's nothing like cold meats in June—they're as good as a picnic.'
'Dead snipe?' Daphne asked, curling her lip.
'The one as Miss Flavia and the Colonel found on my yesterday's back doorstep. It still gives me the goose- pimples, the way that thing was layin' there with its eye all frosted and its bill stickin' straight up in the air with a bit of paper stuck on it.”
'Ned!' Ophelia said, slapping the table. 'You were right, Daffy. It's a love token!'
