Christine took a minute or two to think.
Then she said: 'That's right. It was the kid's bag – a green and gold thing. The other two women had black bags.'
'What did the waiter do with the bag?'
Christine looked surprised.
'He just put it back on the table, that's all.'
'You're quite sure he didn't touch any of the glasses?'
'Oh, no. He just dropped the bag down very quick and ran off because one of the real waiters was hissing at him to go somewhere or get something and everything was going to be his fault!'
'And that's the only time anyone went near that table?'
'That's right.'
'But of course someone might have gone to the table without your noticing?'
But Christine shook her head very determinedly.
'No, I'm quite sure they didn't. You see Pedro had been called to the telephone and hadn't got back yet, so I had nothing to do but look around and feel bored. I'm pretty good at noticing things and from where I was sitting there wasn't much else to see but the empty table next to us.'
Race asked: 'Who came back first to the table?'
'The girl in green and the old boy. They sat down and then the fair man and the girl in black came back and after them the haughty piece of goods and the good-looking dark boy. Some dancer, he was. When they were all back and the waiter was warming up a dish like mad on the spirit lamp, the old boy leaned forward and made a kind of speech and then they all picked up their glasses again. And then it happened.'
Christine paused and added brightly,
'Awful, wasn't it? Of course I thought it was a stroke. My aunt had a stroke and she went down just like that. Pedro came back just then and I said, 'Look, Pedro, that man's had a stroke.' And all Pedro would say was, 'Just passing out – just passing out – that's all' which was about what he was doing. I had to keep my eye on him. They don't like you passing out at a place like the Luxembourg . That's why I don't like Dagoes. When they've drunk too much they're not a bit refined any more – a girl never knows what unpleasantness she may be let in for.'
She brooded for a moment and then glancing at a showy looking bracelet on her right wrist, she added, 'Still, I must say they're generous enough.'
Gently distracting her from the trials and compensations of a girl's existence Kemp took her through her story once more.
'That's our last chance of outside help gone,' he said to Race when they had left Miss Shannon's flat. 'And it would have been a good chance if it had come off. That girl's the right kind of witness. Sees things and remembers them accurately. If there had been anything to see, she'd have seen it. So the answer is that there wasn't anything to see. It's incredible. It's a conjuring trick! George Barton drinks champagne and goes and dances. He comes back, drinks from the same glass that no one has touched and Hey Presto it's full of cyanide. It's crazy – I tell you – it couldn't have happened except that it did.'
He stopped a minute.
'That waiter. The little boy. Giuseppe never mentioned him. I might look into that. After all, he's the one person who was near the table whilst they were all away dancing. There might be something in it.'
Race shook his head.
'If he'd put anything in Barton's glass, that girl would have seen him. She's a born observer of detail. Nothing to think about inside her head and so she uses her eyes. No, Kemp, there must be some quite simple explanation if only we could get it.'
'Yes, there's one. He dropped it in himself.'
'I'm beginning to believe that that is what happened – that it's the only thing that can have happened. But if so, Kemp, I'm convinced he didn't know it was cyanide.'
'You mean someone gave it to him? Told him it was for indigestion or blood pressure – something like that?'
'It could be.'
'Then who was the someone? Not either of the Farradays.'
'That would certainly seem unlikely.'
'And I'd say Mr Anthony Browne is equally unlikely. That leaves us two people – and affectionate sister-in- law –'
'And a devoted secretary.'
Kemp looked at him.
'Yes – she could have planted something of the kind on him – I'm due now to go to Kidderminster House – What about you? Going round to see Miss Marle?'
'I think I'll go and see the other one – at the office. Condolences of an old friend. I might take her out to lunch.'
'So that is what you think.'
'I don't think anything yet. I'm casting about for spoor.'
'You ought to see Iris Marle, all the same.'
'I'm going to see her – but I'd rather go to the house first when she isn't there. Do you know why, Kemp?'
'I'm sure I couldn't say.'
'Because there's someone there who twitters – twitters like a little bird… A little bird told me – was a saying of my youth. It's very true, Kemp – these twitterers can tell one a lot if one just lets them – twitter!'
Chapter 4
The two men parted. Race halted a taxi and was driven to George Barton's office in the city. Chief Inspector Kemp, mindful of his expense account, took a bus to within a stone's throw of Kidderminster House.
The inspector's face was rather grim as he mounted the steps and pushed the bell. He was, he knew, on difficult ground. The Kidderminster faction had immense political influence and its ramifications spread out like a network throughout the country. Chief Inspector Kemp had full belief in the impartiality of British justice. If Stephen or Alexandra Farraday had been concerned in the death of Rosemary Barton or in that of George Barton no 'pull' or 'influence' would enable them to escape the consequences.
But if they were guiltless, or the evidence against them was too vague to ensure conviction, then the responsible officer must be careful how he trod or he would be liable to get a rap over the knuckles from his superiors. In these circumstances it can be understood that the Chief Inspector did not much relish what lay before him. It seemed to him highly probable that the Kidderminsters would, as he phrased it to himself, 'cut up rough.'
Kemp soon found, however, that he had been somewhat naпve in his assumption. Lord Kidderminster was far too experienced a diplomat to resort to crudities.
On stating his business. Chief Inspector Kemp was taken at once by a pontifical butler to a dim book-lined room at the back of the house where he found Lord Kidderminster and his daughter and son-in-law awaiting him.
Coming forward, Lord Kidderminster shook hands and said courteously:
'You are exactly on time, Chief Inspector. May I say that I much appreciate your courtesy in coming here instead of demanding that my daughter and her husband should come to Scotland Yard which, of course, they would have been quite prepared to do if necessary – that goes without saying – but they appreciate your kindness.'
Sandra said in a quiet voice: 'Yes, indeed, Inspector.'
She was wearing a dress of some soft dark red material, and sitting as she was with the light from the long narrow window behind her, she reminded Kemp of a stained glass figure he had once seen in a cathedral abroad.
The long oval of her face and the slight angularity of her shoulders helped the illusion. Saint Somebody or
