Hurstall broke his silence.
'I remember now, sir. It was his dark blue. The family,' he added, anxious not to lose prestige, 'have not been in the habit of changing into evening dress during the summer months. They frequently go out after dinner — sometimes in the garden, sometimes down to the quay.'
Battle nodded. Hurstall left the room. He passed Jones in the doorway. Jones looked excited.
He said: 'It's a cinch, sir. I've got all their prints. There's only one lot fits the bill. Of course, I've only been able to make a rough comparison as yet, but I'll bet they're the right ones.'
'Well?' said Battle .
'The prints on that niblick handle, sir, were made by Mr. Nevile Strange.'
Battle leant back in his chair.
'Well,' he said, 'that seems to settle it, doesn't it?'
IV
They were in the Chief Constable's office — three men with grave, worried faces.
Major Mitchell said with a sigh: 'Well, I suppose there's nothing to be done but arrest him?'
Leach said quietly: 'Looks like it, sir.'
Mitchell looked across at Superintendent Battle.
'Cheer up, Battle ,' he said kindly. 'Your best friend isn't dead.'
Superintendent Battle sighed.
'I don't like it,' he said.
'I don't think any of us like it,' said Mitchell. 'But we've ample evidence, I think, to apply for a warrant.'
'More than ample,' said Battle .
'In fact, if we don't apply for one, anybody might ask why the dickens not?'
Battle nodded an unhappy head.
'Let's go over it,' said the Chief Constable. 'You've got motive — Strange and his wife come into a considerable sum of money at the old lady's death. He's the last person known to have seen her alive — he was heard quarrelling with her. The suit he wore that night had bloodstains on it; of course, most damning of all, his fingerprints were found on the actual weapon — and no one else's.'
'And yet, sir,' said Battle , 'you don't like it, either.'
'I'm damned if I do.'
'What is it exactly you don't like about it, sir?'
Major Mitchell rubbed his nose. 'Makes the fellow out a bit too much of a fool, perhaps?' he suggested.
'And yet, sir, they do behave like fools sometimes.'
'Oh, I know — I know. Where would we be if they didn't?'
Battle said to Leach: 'What don't you like about it, Jim?' Leach stirred unhappily.
'I've always liked Mr. Strange. Seen him on and off down here for years. He's a nice gentleman — and he's a sportsman.'
'I don't see,' said Battle slowly, 'why a good tennis player shouldn't be a murderer as well. There's nothing against it.' He paused. 'What I don't like is the niblick.'
'The niblick?' asked Mitchell, slightly puzzled.
'Yes, sir, or, alternatively, the bell. The bell or the niblick — not both.'
He went on in his slow, careful voice.
'What do we think actually happened? Did Mr. Strange go to her room, have a quarrel, lose his temper, and hit her over the head with a niblick. If so, and it was unpremeditated, how did he happen to have a niblick with him? It's not the sort of thing you carry about with you in the evenings.'
'He might nave been practising swings — something like that.'
'He might — but nobody says so. Nobody saw him doing it. The last time anybody saw him with a niblick in his hand was about a week previously when he was practising sand shots down on the sands. As I look at it, you see, you can't have it both ways. Either there was a quarrel and he lost his temper — and, mind you, I've seen him on the courts, and in one of these tournament matches these tennis stars are all het up and a mass of nerves, and if their tempers fray easily it's going to show. I've never seen Mr. Strange ruffled. I should say he's got an excellent control over his temper — better than most — and yet we're suggesting that he goes berserk and hits a frail old lady over the head.'
'There's another alternative, Battle ,' said the Chief Constable.
'I know, sir. The theory that it was premeditated. He wanted the old lady's money. That fits in with the bell — which entailed the doping of the maid — but it doesn't fit in with the niblick and the quarrel! If he'd made up his mind to do her in, he'd be very careful not to quarrel with her. He could dope the maid, creep into her room in the night — crack her over the head and stage a nice little robbery, wiping the niblick and putting it carefully back where it belonged! It's all wrong, sir — it's a mixture of cold premeditation and unpremeditated violence — and the two don't mix!'
'There's something in what you say, Battle — but — what's the alternative?'
'It's the niblick that takes my fancy, sir.'
'Nobody could have hit her over the head with that niblick without disturbing Nevile's prints — that's quite certain.'
'In that case,' said Battle , 'she was hit over the head with something else.' Major Mitchell drew a deep breath. 'That's rather a wild assumption, isn't it?'
'I think it's common sense, sir. Either Strange hit her with that niblick or nobody did. I plump for nobody. In that case that niblick was put there deliberately and blood and hair smeared on it. Dr. Lazenby doesn't like the niblick much — had to accept it because it was the obvious thing and because he couldn't say definitely that it hadn't been used.'
Major Mitchell leaned back in his chair.
'Go on. Battle ,' he said. 'I'm giving you a free hand. What's the next step?'
'Take away the niblick,' said Battle , 'and what is left? First, motive. Had Nevile Strange really got a motive for doing away with Lady Tressilian? He inherited money — a lot depends, to my mind, on whether he needed that money. He says not. I'd suggest we verify that. Find out the state of his finances. If he's in a hole financially, and needs money, then the case against him is very much strengthened. If, on the other hand, he was speaking the truth and his finances are in a good state, why, then — '
'Well, what then?'
'Why, then, we might have a look at the motives of the other people in the house.'
'You think, then, that Nevile Strange was framed?' Superintendent Battle screwed up his eyes.
'There's a phrase I read somewhere that tickled my fancy. Something about a fine Italian hand. That's what I seem to see in this business. Ostensibly it's a blunt, brutal, straightforward crime, but it seems to me I catch glimpses of something else — of a fine Italian hand at work behind the scenes …'
There was a long pause while the Chief Constable looked at Battle . 'You may be right,' he said at last. 'Dash it all, there's something funny about the business. What's your idea, now, of our plan of campaign?'
Battle stroked his square jaw.
'Well, sir,' he said. 'I'm always in favour of going about things the obvious way. Everything's been set to make us suspicious of Mr. Nevile Strange. Let's go on being suspicious of him. Needn't go so far as actually to arrest him, but hint at it, question him, put the wind up him — and observe everybody's reactions generally. Verify his statements, go over his movements that night with a toothcomb. In fact, show our hand as plainly as may be.'
'Quite Machiavellian,' said Major Mitchell with a twinkle. 'Imitation of a heavy-handed policeman by star actor Battle .'
The Superintendent smiled.
'I always like doing what's expected of me, sir. This time I mean to be a bit slow about it — take my time. I want to do some nosing about. Being suspicious of Mr. Nevile Strange is a very good excuse for nosing about. I've an idea, you know, that something rather odd has been going on in that house.'
