up with me in the house for tonight. I'm dashed if I stay here.'
His eye wandered over to a leather couch against one wall, and he shuddered again. Hadley said:
`Now, if you please, Miss Bitton, let's go on. First tell us about this extraordinary business of your cousin wanting to die in a top-hat.'
`Eh?' said Dalrye. `Good God! what's this?'
`Why, Robert Dalrye,' Sheila Bitton said, warmly, `you know, perfectly well…. Oh no, you don't. I remember now, when you spoke about getting back too that hateful Tower. You had to leave the table early to get there. It was the first night that Mr Arbor… no, it wasn't, because Uncle Lester wasn't there then. Anyway, it was some night. Just Daddy and Uncle Lester and Laura and I were at the table; and Philip, of course. It was the night before Laura and Uncle Lester went to Cornwall. And Philip was taking Laura to the theatre, because at the last minute Uncle Lester had business and couldn't go, you see; but they were taking the trip to Cornwall because Uncle Lester had lost a lot of money or something, and he was all run down.
`It was a sort of spooky night, you see, with rain and hail coming down. Anyway, we started talking about death. And Uncle Lester asked Daddy how he'd choose to die if he had to die. Daddy said he supposed he'd choose to die like some duke or other who said he wanted to be drowned in a barrel of wine… fancy! But then they got serious about it, the way people do, and I was getting scared because they didn't talk very loud, and it was storming outside.
`And finally Daddy said he thought he'd choose some kind of poison he talked about that kills you in one whiff when you breathe it, and Uncle Lester said he thought a bullet through the head would be best, and Laura kept saying, 'What rot, what rot,' and 'Come on, Phil, or we'll be late for the first-act curtain.' And when Phil got up from the table Uncle Lester asked him how he'd like to die. And Phil just laughed, said something in French, and Daddy told me afterwards it meant, 'Always the gentleman,' and he said a lot of absurd things and said… Well, anyway, he didn't care so much how he died, if he could die with a top-hat on and at least one woman to weep at his grave.'
Four pairs of eyes fixed upon her had roused even Sheila Bitton to something like nervousness. As she came towards the end of her recital she was fidgeting and talking faster and faster. Now she cried:
`Please, I won't… I won't have you looking at me like that! And I won't be put upon, and nobody ever tells me anything, and I know I've said something I shouldn't. What is he matter?'
She sprang up. Dalrye put a clumsy hand on her shoulder.
He said: `My dear!… 'and stopped because he had nothing to say.
`My dear Miss Bitton,' the chief inspector said, briskly, — `you've said nothing wrong at all. Mr Dalrye will explain, presently. But now about this morning, at the breakfast table. What was it your Uncle said about seeing Philip today?'
She hesitated, looked at Dalrye, and wet her lips.
`Why, there wasn't anything much. Only Uncle Lester said he was going to have a talk with Phil today. And when I said that, about Phil meaning to go to the Tower at one o'clock, he said he thought he'd better run over to Phil's flat in the morning.'
`And did he?'
`Uncle Lester? Yes, he did. I saw him when he carne back about noon.. And I remember, Uncle Lester said to Daddy, 'Oh, I say, you'd better let me have your key, in case he isn't in this morning; I'll sit down and wait for him.”
'Your father has a key to this flat?’
'I told you,' Sheila answered with some bitterness, `he treats us all like kids. That was one of the things that used to make Phil furious with him. He said he wouldn't pay for Phil's flat unless he could have a key, so that he could see what was going on whenever he wanted to…. Fancy! So Daddy gave Uncle Lester the key.'
Hadley bent forward. `Did he see Phil this morning?'
'No, he didn't, because I saw him when he came back. And Phil was out, and Uncle Lester, waited half an hour and left. He seemed to be…'
`Angry?' prompted Hadley, as she hesitated.
'No-o. Sort of tired and shaky. I know he'd over exerted himself. And… funny. He seemed queer, too, and excited; and he laughed.'
`Laughed?'
`Hold on!' Dr Fell suddenly boomed. He was having trouble keeping his glasses on his nose, and he held them to look at the girl. `Tell me, my dear. Was he carrying anything when he came back?'
`This,' she cried again — `this is something horrible to do with Uncle Lester, and I won't have it! He's the only one who's really frightfully nice to me, and he is, and I won't have it.'
She was stamping on the floor, bewildered, turning suddenly to Dalrye…:
`I'll be damned,' the other flared, `if she answers you another question. Listen, Sheila. Go into the other rooms and see if there's anything you want to take along…. '
Hadley was about to interpose when Dr Fell silenced him with a fierce gesture. Then the doctor spoke amiably:
`It's quite all right, my dear. I hadn't meant to upset you, and it wasn't, important, anyway. Do as Mr Dalrye suggests, please…. But there is one thing… You know, I asked you on the telephone whether you would bring somebody along to help you with your things. And I suggested your father's valet…?'
Marks?' she exclaimed, puzzled. `Why, yes. I forgot. He's out in the car '
`Thank you, my dear. There isn't anything else.'
'You go in there and look about, Sheila,' Dalrye suggested. `I'll join you in a moment.'
He waited until the door had closed, Then he turned slowly. There was dull colour under, his cheekbones; he was still visibly shaken, and his mouth worked.
`Listen,' he said. His voice was thick. 'He cleared it with an effort. `I understand all your implications, of course. And you know how much I thought of Phil. But so far as Mr Lester Bitton's concerned I feel the way she does. And I'll tell you you're a lot of damned fools. I know him pretty well. Sheila didn't tell you he was the one who stood up for our marriage when the old man was against it.
`He's not likeable on the surface, as General Mason is. Bitton's cold and efficient when you just look at him. He's not clever, or a good talker. But he's.. you're… a… lot… of… fools,' Dalrye said, suddenly, miserable.
Hadley drummed his fingers on his brief-case.
`Tell us the truth, Mr Dalrye,' he said, after a time. 'We've pretty well found out that there was an affair between Mrs Bitton and Driscoll. Did you know about it?'
`I give you my word,' said Dalrye, simply, `I didn't. Believe me or not. I only got wind of it… well, afterwards. Phil wouldn't have been such a fool as to tell me. I'd have covered him, I suppose, because… oh, well, you can see. But I'd have stopped it, somehow.'
`And do you suppose Sir William knew of it?'
`O Lord, no! He's the last person who would. He's too tied up with his books and his lectures about how the government is running on senile decay…. But, for God's sake, find out who killed Phil!'
`We are going to begin,' Dr Fell' said, quietly, `in precisely two minutes. I mean, we are going to dispose of the nonsense, and then see our way straight to the sense.' Mr Dalrye, will you step outside and ask that valet chap, Marks, to step in here?'
Dalrye hesitated, running a hand through his hair; but at the doctor's imperious gesture he hurried out.
`Now!' urged Dr Fell, hammering his stick on the floor. `Set that table over in front of me. That's it, my boy, hurry!' He struggled up as Rampole lifted the heavy table and set it down with a thump before him. `Now, Hadley, give me your brief-case…. '
`Here!' protested the chief inspector; `stop scattering those papers all over the table!'
Rampole stared in astonishment as the doctor waddled over and picked up a bridge-lamp with a powerful electric bulb. Reeling out its cord from the baseboard, he set the lamp at some short distance from the table.' Then he rolled a low chair under it, and switched on the light. Rampole found the chief inspector's black notebook thrust into his hands.
'That, my boy, is for you,' said the doctor. `Sit down here beside me, on my left. Have you a pencil?… Good! When I give you the word, you are to pretend to be making shorthand notes.'
Hadley made motions like one who sees a priceless vase tottering on the edge of a shelf. `Don't!. Look here,
