which would not stand scrutiny for five minutes.'
He paused, still backing away with his dead-glazed eyes fixed on the quiet figure. Then he snapped:
'If you will come into the other room, Sir Henry, I will undertake to show you exactly how this Mr. Carl Rainger himself killed Miss Tait, and attempted by a clumsy subterfuge to escape my notice. I did not wish to speak to you in the house, in case it should entail unpleasantness. You will accompany me? I thank you. I — cannot endure the sight of death.'
He backed so swiftly out of the room that he stumbled, and supported himself only by clinging to the frame of the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Second Design for Hanging
At half-past six that evening, Bennett was sitting in a lumpy arm-chair before the fire in his own room, without energy to finish dressing for dinner. His brainfelt literally heavy from weariness; draughts played in the creaky room; and Katharine had not yet returned from Dr. Wynne's, although she had telephoned that John would definitely pull through. Telephone messages: 'This is Lord Canifest's secretary speaking. His Lordship will be quite unable to undertake a motor-journey at this moment, due to a heart-attack experienced last night, and is confined to his room. Should there be any doubt of this in the mind of the policeman who had occasion to 'phone, it is suggested that he communicate with His Lordship's physician. ' Blaah, blaah, blaah.”
Bennett looked up at a murky painting hung over the mantelpiece, and down at the studless shirt in his lap. Murder, suicide, or holocaust, the business of calories and black ties must go on as usual. Maurice was in very high feather tonight; he had even issued orders that some special sherry was to be served, in place of cocktails, for the benefit of Sir Henry Merrivale. Sir Henry Merrivale had consented to spend the night at the White Priory. In other words (Bennett thought) what in the devil's name was on H. M.’s mind?
Which brought up the worst and most insistent question: was Maurice right about the murder? While Bennett and Masters and H. M. were walking back from the pavilion, with Bohun and Willard a little distance behind, H. M. had relieved his mind with a few sotto voce comments about Maurice, Maurice's character and Maurice's habits, which sizzled the ear of the listener with their force and sulphurousness. But that was all. He had only grunted when Maurice expounded his theory of the murder. He had sat back with a wooden face, under the spurious candlelight in the drawing-room of the pavilion, while Maurice deftly wove a halter for Carl Rainger. Masters had been impressed. So, evidently, had Willard. Bennett was willing to admit that he himself was more than impressed. But H. M. had been neither one thing nor the other.
'You say,' he growled, 'Rainger's still dead to the world and in his room? Right-ho. Let him keep. I s'pose you're not afraid to face him with this story?'
Well, then? That H. M. believed this explanation Bennett doubted. But the thing was so ingenious, and so plausible, that it appealed all the more for its retributive effect. When Rainger flung out an accusation on the strength of John Bohun's tracks, he had touched a snake that could sting in return. Again Bennett heard Maurice speaking quietly, levelly, with something like a similar warning whir in his voice.
'I knew this morning that this man Rainger was in all probability guilty, and I could have told you how he had done it.' Here his little head had turned snakily towards Masters. 'You may recall, inspector, that I intimated a possibility of explaining the problem that troubled you? Ah yes. I fancy you do remember. Of course it will be obvious why I could not speak?'
Masters blurted: 'I don't know what to make of you, sir, and that's a fact. Yes, I know why. You wondered whether this man Rainger's business proposition was on the level. And if he did mean to offer you some fantastic job at some fantastic salary, you mean to say you were willing to cover him up in a murder?'
Maurice had only looked mildly puzzled and troubled.
'Surely it was the logical thing, was it not?'
'And you believe in this very fishy offer of Rainger's?'
'Admitting,' said Maurice with sudden harshness, 'that I was for a moment taken in! What would anyone have thought? These Americans are all notoriously fools about money. The brethren of the cinema are worse than any. Besides, if you will allow me to say so, I am not unaware of my own worth. But when I had the good fortune to overhear a conversation between you, Sir Henry, and this offensive person named Emery, then whatever doubts I had were destroyed. He had been deliberately making a fool of me I' Maurice conquered his tone before his words made a fool of him there. He became cool again. 'I am only wondering whether Sir Henry deliberately spoke in a loud tone to this man Emery..'
H. M. blinked sleepily. A sound came from somewhere deep in his chest.
'Oh, maybe. Maybe. My sight ain't as good as it might be, but I noticed somethin' gray and ghosty floatin' around outside the door; and I thought you might as well know. Well?'
Trying to force these images to the back of his mind, Bennett got up and stalked about the room as he continued dressing. He would put that problem aside until he could discuss it with somebody: 'preferably Katharine, since the tangle involved Louise Carewe. H. M. had insisted that Louise should not be questioned until this evening, and Maurice (even afire with his theory) had been content to let it rest.
The trouble was. He had adjusted his tie, and was getting into his coat, when somebody knocked at the door.
'May I come in?' said Katharine's voice. 'I know it's the wrong time, but I had to see you. Everything's all right; I've just left John. He's still unconscious, but he's in no danger.'
She was hatless, and wore a heavy tweed coat still powdered with snow. The cold had brought brilliant color into her cheeks.
'In fact, I've got good news all around; surprising news. I've looked in on Louise. She's up and about, and she'll come down to dinner. It's a funny thing, but I feel better than I have for years.' She came up to the fire, spreading out her hands, and tossed her hair back as she looked over her shoulder. 'By the way, what is the matter with Uncle Maurice?'
'Matter?'
'High spirits. That's what I don't like. When I came in, Thompson said there'd been some sort of row about, that man Rainger; and that the other one, the nice one, Emery, had been here all afternoon trying to sober him up. Only he wouldn't be sobered, and from what Thompson said he'd been raving and singing about the house; and that's what Uncle Maurice hates. But when I came in, this Mr. Emery was coming downstairs, and Uncle Maurice came out, and slapped him on the shoulder. I say, it's unbelieveablel That is, if you knew Maurice. And he said, `Where are you going?' Emery looked ill; I mean really ill. I wanted to stop him and ask if I couldn't do something, only I didn't know him. But he said he'd got a room in a hotel at Epsom nearby where they were keeping her. '
'Steady! No Price Terrors now. Go on.'
'It was only that Uncle Maurice said, `Are you a friend of Mr. Rainger?' Emery said, `Certainly; what about it? And Uncle Maurice said, `Then you've got to stay to dinner. You'll hear something very interesting.' Emery looked at him in a queer sort of way; and there must be something on his mind, because he said, `You'd invite Me to dinner? You don't think what Canifest does?' I say, he was upset! Something about people thinking he was a — a — well, he used the word 'louse.' And Uncle Maurice said, 'If you're a friend of Mr. Rainger, nobody will be more welcome.' It simply doesn't sound like him, that's all.'
'It sounds more like him than you think.'
She dropped her hands and turned round to look at him fully.
'I know what you mean,' she said, 'but I don't understand.'
He told her. He told her only of the accusation, and added: 'Sit down and let me explain it, because — it concerns you. It also concerns Louise. Will you be frank with me now?'
'Yes. That is, except about one thing, and that doesn't concern murders.'
That sharp directness of hers had come through; it would have come through, even if she had tried to prevent it. She was looking up at him, her head back as though defiantly, but he could see her shoulders quivering and the rise and fall of her breast.
'No!' she said suddenly and almost hysterically, as he took a step forward. 'That's what I meant when I said I
