The Reader Is Warned

then asked me - me to be reasonable. He said, first, that he didn't claim to succeed with everybody; and, second, that he would have to meet the victim in question and 'fit a cap' on him - whatever that may mean - before he could succeed; finally, that he must have lived in conjunction with the victim, who must be of an intelligence inferior to his own.'

Chief Inspector Masters turned a satirical eye towards H.M.

'Which,' Masters pointed out, 'which, for one reason or another, 'ud seem to rule out bumping off Hitler or Mussolini or Stalin or any of the big pots. - But you didn't get all this out of saying a word or two to him on Friday night?'

'No, no, I tackled him yesterday. He... where is he-now, by the way?'

Masters was soothing.

'It's all right, sir. He won't hurt you.'

'You bet he won't; not if I can help it. But where is he?'

'I expect the gentleman's off sulking somewhere. He wanted to talk to some reporters at the police-station; but I convinced 'em he was harmless,' said Masters with rich satisfaction. 'Come, now, sir! You're not impressed by all this rubbish, are you? Then why bother about where he is now?'

'No. It was only,' said Chase, 'that I thought I saw him outside the window just now.'

Masters got up. He went over to the three full-length windows in their bay facing the front of the house, where the last light showed between curtains beaded at the edges like a Spanish hat. Setting his heavy shoulder under the frame, Masters pushed up one window with a screech; and then he ran it up smoothly.

'Bit too warm in here. I'll just take the liberty' - he indicated the liberty he had taken. Then he leaned out and sniffed the air, which stirred with a cool touch down the room.

Thin noises dropped into the hush: a flutter near the bird-bath, a crackle as though of vines contracting at nightfall. But the path outside was empty.

'Probably somewhere about. Mr Pennik likes wandering, they tell me,' Masters went on. He became brisk. 'Now, Mr Chase! There are some questions I'd like to ask you: not about Mr Pennik, but about yourself. And while I do... I wonder, Doctor, whether you'd mind going up and asking Miss Keen to join us? Eh?'

Sanders went, closing the double-doors of the drawing-room behind him.

He had not quite liked the way Masters had looked out of that window, like a marksman on a tower. But when he went upstairs and knocked at the door of Mina Constable's room, nothing could have seemed more domestic. Hilary Keen, with a certain determination, was sitting near the window, knitting; and she bent close to the window to catch the light. Mina, wrapped in a rather gaudy silk robe, sat back in a padded chair by the bed. There was an ash-tray full of cigarette-stubs beside her, and she was smoking still another cigarette: rolling it round and round in her mouth as though the lips were too smooth to hold it. Both women showed a kind of relief. The atmosphere was one of peace -but a dry and drained peace, as though they had exhausted each other's conversation, and merely waited.

Mina was struck to animation as you strike fire from a lighter.

'Who is it downstairs?' she asked, turning large eyes. 'Is it that superintendent again ? I heard you let him in.'

'No, Mrs Constable. It's Chief Inspector Masters and Sir Henry Merrivale. They want to see...'

'I knew it. I knew it. I'll get dressed and go down straightaway. But I haven't got anything black. Oh dear, I haven't got anything black.' For a moment he thought her eyes were going to fill with tears. 'Never mind. What does it matter? It will have to do. You will tell him to wait, won't you, Doctor?'

Sanders hesitated.

'You needn't bother to get dressed, Mrs Constable. Sit there and take it easy; they'll come up here. As a matter of fact, it is Miss Hilary they want to see first.'

Hilary, who had been frowning hideously over the white wool, looked up.

'Me? Why me?'

'Some little mix-up in the testimony. Steady, Mrs Constable!'

Mina, brushing past him, had hurried into the bathroom, turned on the light, pulled a towel off the rail, stumbled against the electric heater, and finally turned in the doorway with her eyes grown hard. It was easy to sense something hard and sinewy and supple in her character, something that was not at first sight apparent. But that was not what attracted his attention. The light from the bathroom fell across her bedside table and the two bookshelves under it; and the tall scrap-book labelled New Ways of Committing Murder was now missing.

'Some little mix-up in the testimony ?' inquired Mina, -massaging her hands on the towel. 'What is it?

'Nothing important. Honestly.'

'Something to do with the toad Pennik, who wears a jewel in his head?' 'Yes.'

'I knew it! I knew it!'

'Please sit down,' Hilary urged her. She turned to Sanders. 'And - Jack' - the hesitation they had about pronouncing each other's Christian names showed a strong self-consciousness - 'there is something that will have to be settled here and now. Must you be back to work in town to-morrow?'

'Yes, I'm supposed to be. There's the inquest, of course, but that will be adjourned.'

'Couldn't you make some excuse and get leave to stay over?'

'Yes, of course. But why ?'

'Because that lady,' she nodded at Mina, who was still absently massaging her hands, 'must not be allowed to stay here overnight alone. I mean it, Jack. The hospital phoned to say that two of the servants, the cook and the maid, will be out to-morrow; but not until to-morrow. Mrs Constable has got the bee in her bonnet that she wants to stay alone, and she mustn't be allowed to. I'd stay myself like a shot, only we've got that Rice-Mason case coming up to-morrow and unless I go up to-night it quite plainly and simply means the sack. Can't you stay ?'

(After all, Sanders was reflecting, with his eye on the gap in the bookshelf where New Ways of Committing Murder had stood, I'm not a policeman. It is no business of mine. But I wish that book hadn't disappeared.)

'Please, aren't you listening?'

'Of course,' he said, pulling his thoughts back. 'I'd be only too glad to stay, if Mrs Constable doesn't mind having me. And she could do with looking after for another night: she isn't as well as she thinks she is.'

Mina's eyes puckered up; then her face grew gende with a smile of great charm. Tossing the towel aside, she went over impulsively and put her hand on Hilary's arm.

'Whatever happens,' she said, 'thanks, anyway. You've been very decent to me, both of you. And you, Hilary: I don't know what I'd have done without you. Cooking the meals! And even washing the dishes!'

'A terrible job,' said Hilary dryly. 'A perfectly back-breaking job. It quite wore me out. What on earth do you do when you're off on one of these heathenish trips of yours and there isn't anybody to wash the dishes ?’

'Oh, I pay somebody to do it,' said Mina with a certain vagueness. 'Saves time and trouble, you see.' Her tone changed. 'But don't you worry about me, my dear. I shall be quite all right, too all right. I'm looking forward to it. That is, if I can persuade the toad Pennik to stay too.'

'Pennik?'

'That's right.'

'But I thought-'

'I want to talk to Sir Henry Merrivale,' Mina went on. 'Then we shall see what we shall see. Now get out of here, please, both of you; and let me dress. There!'

She impelled them out with the briskness of one who was again on the edge of a breakdown, and the door closed noisily. Sanders was not sorry to go. He had certain things to say to Hilary; and yet he found that he would have difficulty in saying them.

The hall was very dark except for the line of great pale-glowing coloured-glass windows descending beside the staircase. They seemed even loftier, the curve of a shell; it was like being inside a warm kaleidoscope. 'And twilight saints and dim emblazonings' was the thought that occurred to him while he and Hilary walked down the stairs side by side on the thick carpet. The other words still stuck in his throat; and Hilary talked.

'You can't speak to her frankly. That's the real trouble. You either can't get past her guard at all, into what