naturally, but the hot water is hot and my little maid, Emily, really cooks quite nicely.'
'Oh, I'm sure everything would be lovely, Miss Waynflete,' said Bridget mechanically.
'But, of course, if you are going up to town, that is much better.'
Bridget said slowly, 'It's a little awkward. My aunt went off early to a flower show today. I haven't had a chance yet to tell her what has happened. I shall leave a note for her, telling her I've gone up to the flat.'
'You're going to your aunt's flat in London ?'
'Yes. There's no one there. But I can go out for meals.'
'You'll be alone in the flat? Oh, dear, I shouldn't do that. Not stay there alone.'
'Nobody will eat me,' said Bridget impatiently. 'Besides, my aunt will come up tomorrow.'
Miss Waynflete shook her head in a worried manner.
Luke said, 'Better go to a hotel.'
Bridget wheeled round on him. 'Why? What's the matter with you all? Why are you treating me as though I was an imbecile child?'
'No, no, dear,' protested Miss Waynflete. 'We just want you to be careful, that's all!'
'But why? Why? What's it all about?'
'Look here, Bridget,' said Luke. 'I want to have a talk with you. But I can't talk here. Come with me now in the car and we'll go somewhere quiet.' He looked at Miss Waynflete. 'May we come to your house in about an hour's time? There are several things I want to say to you.'
'Please do. I will wait for you there.'
Luke put his hand on Bridget's arm. He gave a nod of thanks to Miss Waynflete. He said, 'We'll pick up the luggage later. Come on.'
He led her out of the room and along the hall to the front door. He opened the door of the car. Bridget got in. Luke started the engine and drove rapidly down the drive. He gave a sigh of relief as they emerged from the iron gates. 'Thank God I've got you out of there safely,' he said.
'Have you gone quite mad, Luke? Why all this 'hush-hush, I can't tell you what I mean now' business?'
Luke said grimly, 'Well, there are difficulties, you know, in explaining that a man's a murderer, when you're actually under his roof.'
Chapter 21
Bridget sat for a minute motionless beside him. She said, 'Gordon?' Luke nodded.
'Gordon? Gordon a murderer? Gordon the murderer? I never heard anything so ridiculous in all my life!'
'That's how it strikes you?'
'Yes, indeed. Why, Gordon wouldn't hurt a fly.'
Luke said grimly, 'That may be true. I don't know. But he certainly killed a canary bird, and I'm pretty certain he's killed a large number of human beings as well.'
'My dear Luke, I simply can't believe it!'
'I know,' said Luke. 'It does sound quite incredible. Why, he never even entered my head as a possible suspect until the night before last.'
Bridget protested, 'But I know all about Gordon! I know what he's like! He's really a sweet little man — pompous, yes, but rather pathetic, really.'
Luke shook his head. 'You've got to readjust your ideas about him, Bridget.'
'It's no good, Luke; I simply can't believe it! What put such an absurd idea into your head? Why, two days ago you were quite positive it was Ellsworthy.'
Luke winced slightly. 'I know. I know. You probably think that tomorrow I shall suspect Thomas, and the day after I shall be convinced that it's Horton I'm after. I'm not really so unbalanced as that. I admit the idea's completely startling when it first comes to you, but if you look into it a bit closer, you'll see that it all fits in remarkably well. No wonder Miss Fullerton didn't dare to go to the local authorities. She knew they'd laugh at her! Scotland Yard was her only hope.'
'But what possible motive could Gordon have for all this killing business? Oh, it's all so silly!'
'I know. But don't you realize that Gordon Easterfield has a very exalted opinion of himself?'
Bridget said, 'He pretends to be very wonderful and very important. That's just inferiority complex, poor lamb!'
'Possibly that's at the root of the trouble. I don't know. But think, Bridget — just think a minute. Remember all the phrases you've used laughingly yourself about him — lese-majeste, and so on. Don't you realize that the man's ego is swollen out of all proportion? And it's allied with religion. My dear girl, the man's as mad as a hatter!'
Bridget thought for a minute. She said at last, 'I still can't believe it. What evidence have you got, Luke?'
'Well, there are his own words. He told me, quite plainly and distinctly, the night before last, that anyone who opposed him in any way always died.'
'Go on.'
'I can't quite explain to you what I mean, but it was the way he said it. Quite calm and complacent and — how shall I put it? — quite used to the idea! He just sat there smiling to himself. It was uncanny and rather horrible, Bridget!'
'Go on.'
'Well, then he went on to give me a list of people who'd passed out because they'd incurred his sovereign displeasure! And, listen to this, Bridget: the people he mentioned were Mrs. Horton, Amy Gibbs, Tommy Pierce, Harry Carter, Humbleby and that chauffeur fellow, Rivers.'
Bridget was shaken at last. She went very pale. 'He mentioned those actual people?'
'Those actual people! Now, do you believe?'
'Oh, I suppose I must. What were his reasons?'
'Horribly trivial. That's what made it so frightening. Mrs. Horton had snubbed him, Tommy Pierce had done imitations of him and made the gardeners laugh. Harry Carter had abused him, Amy Gibbs had been grossly impertinent, Humbleby had dared to oppose him publicly. Rivers threatened him before me and Miss Waynflete.'
Bridget put her hands to her eyes. 'Horrible. Quite horrible,' she murmured.
'I know. Then there's some other outside evidence. The car that ran down Miss Fullerton in London was a Rolls and its number was the number of Lord Easterfield's car.'
'That definitely clinches it,' said Bridget slowly.
'Yes. The police thought the woman who gave them that number must have made a mistake. Mistake indeed!'
'I can understand that,' said Bridget.
'When it comes to a rich powerful man like Lord Easterfield, naturally, his story is the one to be believed.'
'Yes. One appreciates Miss Fullerton's difficulty.'
Bridget said thoughtfully, 'Once or twice she said rather queer things to me. As though she were warning me against something. I didn't understand in the least at the time. I see now!'
'It all fits in,' said Luke. 'That's the way of it. At first one says — as you said — 'Impossible!' and then, once one accepts the idea, everything fits in. The grapes he sent to Mrs. Horton — and she thought the nurses were poisoning her! And that visit of his to the Wellerman Kreitz Research Laboratories — Somehow or other, he must have got hold of some culture of germs and infected Humbleby.'
'I don't see how he managed that.'
'I don't either, but the connection is there. One can't get away from that.'
'No. As you say, it fits. And of course he could do things that other people couldn't. I mean he would be so completely above suspicion.'
'I think Miss Waynflete suspected. She mentioned that visit to the laboratories. Brought it into conversation
