He explained that he had known Darworth only slightly; that he was drawn into the affair only through his friendship for Lady Benning; that he saw and knew little of the man. He knew of nobody who had a definite animus against Darworth, though he understood the man had not been generally liked, and had been blackballed from several clubs.
Q. Now, about tonight, sir
A. Ask anything you like, Inspector Masters. I'm bound to tell you that your suspicions are nonsense, but I know your duty and mine.
Q. Thank you, sir. Exactly so. Now, how long should you say you were sitting in the dark?
A. Twenty to twenty-five minutes. I several times looked at my watch. It has a luminous dial. I wondered how long the foolery would go on.
Q. Then you were not concentrating, or anything? A. No.
Q. Then didn't your eyes get accustomed to the dark, so you could see?
A. It was confoundedly dark there, Inspector. And my eyes - not strong these days, confound it. No, I couldn't see much. Shapes, maybe.
Q. Did you see anybody get up?
A. No.
Q. Did you hear anybody? A. Yes.
Q. Ah, just so. Please describe what you heard.
A. (Slight hesitation). Hard to do. Naturally, at first, there was a lot of settling round and creaking in chairs. It wasn't that. It was more like somebody pushing back a chair a little, a scraping. Didn't notice it much, I'm bound to tell you. Later I thought I heard somebody's footstep somewhere. Hard to judge sounds in the dark.
Q. How much later?
A. I don't know. Fact is, dye see, I was going to call out and say `Hey!' But Anne - Lady Benning - had driven it into us that nobody was to speak or move no matter what happened. We'd all to promise that. First off, I thought `Somebody sneaking out for a cigarette.' Damned rummy thing to do, though, I thought. Then I heard a squeak out of the door, and felt a draft.
Q. As though the door had been opened?
A. (The witness here had a fit of coughing, and paused). Look here, say more as though the big door-the front door, d'ye see - opened. Not much draft in that hall to begin with. Wouldn't like to say, though. Now, see here, Inspector, I'm bound to tell you the truth. But, as a sensible man, come! You know yourself that it don't mean a tinker's curse, a thing like that. Somebody went out, and now is afraid to admit....
The major here for the first time was definitely perturbed, as though he had given the wrong impression or said more than he intended. He attempted to cover it up by pointing out that there were any number of noises in the dark; that he might have been mistaken on some of them. After some sharp wrangling, Masters dropped the point. I think he felt a shrewd suspicion that Featherton, in a coroner's court, could easily be made to swear to this again. He went on, swiftly to the question about the arrangement of chairs.
A. Lady Benning sat where she's been sitting: right hand side of the fireplace. Funny, too. I wanted to sit beside her, to - well, I wanted to sit there, but she pushed me away. Young Halliday sat down there. I know, because I almost tumbled in his lap. Ha. They'd blown out the candles, then, dye see, and I had to grope along. Miss Latimer was sitting beside him. I got the next chair. I'm pretty certain young Latimer was just the other side of me. He hadn't got up.
Q. When you heard this noise, which direction did it come from; the noise of the chair being scraped back?
A. Confound it, I told you you can't place noises in the dark! Might have been anywhere. Mightn't have been at all.
Q. Did you feel anybody brush past you? A. No.
Q. How far were the chairs apart? A. Don't remember.
The candles were almost burnt out by now. One of them leaped into a broad sheet of flame, wabbled, and puffed out just as the major rose from his chair.
'All right,' Masters said dully. 'You're free to go home if you like, major. I should suggest that you take Lady Benning. Of course, you must hold yourself in readiness for further questioning.... Yes. And please ask Miss Latimer and Mr. Halliday to come in. Oh, I won't detain them five minutes unless something turns up, um, important. Thanks, ah, thanks. Most helpful.'
Featherton stopped in the doorway; and the constable stepped forward and handed him his hat, rather as though the major had just finished a victorious street-fight. It was a silk hat, which he brushed with his sleeve while he peered about the room. For the first time he seemed to observe me; I was sitting on a window-sill over in the gloom. Major Featherton puffed out his blue-veined cheeks. Fitting on he hat somewhat rakishly, he gave it a pat on top, and said:
'Ah, Mr. Blake! Yes, of course ... Mr. Blake, would you mind telling me your home address?'
I told him, subduing curiosity.
'Ah, yes, the Edwardian House, yes. If it's convenient, I'll call on you there tomorrow. Good night, gentlemen, good night.'
Settling his coat on his shoulders with an air of mystery, he stalked out, and almost bumped into Sergeant McDonnell coming in.
XI
THE HANDLE OF A DAGGER
McDONNELL looked harassed, and there were sharp lines of fatigue drawn slantwise under his eyes. In one hand he carried a bundle of penciled notes, and in the other a big lantern which he set down on the floor.
For the first time I realized how chill it was in the room, how sleep was stiffening my eyelids and joints, how for the last half hour sounds had been dwindling in the yard outside until it was now silent. Voices and footsteps had passed; the gears of a car ground far away. It was the dead, misty hour when you could smell dawn in the air. The street-lamps still burned, but there were already faint stirrings from the city.
McDonnell's lantern made a cartwheel of light on the brick floor. It wove a little before my eyes; and above it was the sergeant's ugly, sharp-nosed, whimsical face. His greenish eyes contemplated Masters, who was sitting with knuckles pressed against forehead. McDonnell's hat' was plastered on the back of his head, and one strand of hair waved out grotesquely over his eye. He clinked his foot against the lantern to rouse Masters.
He said: 'How much longer do you want me to carry on, sir. They've all gone now. Bailey said he'd be back for those pictures as soon as it was light.'
'Bert,' said the inspector dully, without looking up, 'you had a line on Darworth. Who's Elsie Fenwick?'
McDonnell jumped a little. 'Elsie-?'
'For God's sake don't tell me you don't know! I know the name; I know it's connected with Darworth, and also with funny business; but I can't remember how. You were right; we got it from Featherton. The first line on that paper was, `
'What ho!' said McDonnell, and opened his eyes. He remained staring at the candles for so long that Masters slapped the work-bench. 'Sorry, sir. But it's pretty significant, you see. It's a confirmation of funny business right enough. Elsie Fenwick,' he said grimly, 'is the reason why our people became interested in Darworth to begin with. That was sixteen years ago, and long before my time; but I got it out of the files when I was digging back on Darworth. It's been pretty well forgotten, but it was the bad odor of it that stirred up Number 8 Office when they heard Darworth was playing about with the occult. . . . Elsie Fenwick was Darworth's first wife.'
'Got it!' said Masters abruptly. 'Ha. Yes, certainly. I've got a notion I remember that case. Elsie Fenwick was the old woman, the very wealthy one, eh? She died, or something like that—“
'No, sir. At least, they tried to prove she was dead, and it would have been rather rough on Darworth if they had. She disappeared.'
'Facts,' said Masters. 'Out with it. Story briefly. Come, now!'
McDonnell got out his notebook and leafed through it. 'H'm. Dar - oh, yes. Elsie Fenwick was a romantic old girl, tied up with spiritualism, filthy rich, and no relations. She had a splay foot or shoulder, something to do with the deformity of the bones. At the tender age of sixty-five she married young Darworth. That was before the Married Woman's Property Act, so you can see what happened. Then the war came along. Darworth ducked out to avoid military service; he took his blushing bride, and a maid of hers, to Switzerland.
