'It might have a connection,' said Inspector Bland.
De Sousa studied him for a moment or two in silence. Then he said with a slight shrug of the shoulders:
'I never knew my cousin at all well. She was a unit in a large family and not particularly interesting to me. But in answer to your question I would say to you that although mentally weak, she was not, as far as I know, ever possessed by any homicidal tendencies.'
'Really, Mr De Sousa, I wasn't suggesting that!'
'Weren't you? I wonder. I can see no other reason for your question. No, unless Hattie has changed very much, she is not homicidal.' He rose. 'I am sure that you cannot want to ask me anything further, Inspector. I can only wish you every possible success in tracking down the murderer.'
'You are not thinking of leaving Helmmouth for a day or two, I hope, Mr De Sousa?'
'You speak very politely, Inspector. Is that an order?'
'Just a request, sir.'
'Thank you. I propose to stay in Helmmouth for two days. Sir George has very kindly asked me to come and stay in the house, but I prefer to remain on the Esperance. If you should want to ask me any further questions, that is where you will find me.'
He bowed politely.
P.C. Hoskins opened the door for him, and he went out.
'Smarmy sort of fellow,' muttered the inspector to himself.
'Aah,' said P.C. Hoskins in complete agreement.
'Say she is homicidal if you like,' went on the inspector, to himself. 'Why should she attack a nondescript girl? There'd be no sense in it.'
'You never know with the barmy ones,' said Hoskins.
'The question really is, how barmy is she?'
Hoskins shook his head sapiently.
'Got a low I.Q., I reckon,' he said.
The inspector looked at him with annoyance.
'Don't bring out these new-fangled terms like a parrot. I don't care if she's got a high I.Q. or a low I.Q. All I care about is, is she the sort of woman who'd think it funny, or desirable, or necessary, to put a cord round a girl's neck and strangle her? And where the devil is the woman, anyway? Go out and see how Frank's getting on.'
Hoskins left obediently, and returned a moment or two later with Sergeant Cottrell, a brisk young man with a good opinion of himself, who always managed to annoy his superior officer. Inspector Bland much preferred the rural wisdom of Hoskins to the smart know-all attitude of Frank Cottrell.
'Still searching the grounds, sir,' said Cottrell. 'The lady hasn't passed out through the gate, we're quite sure of that. It's the second gardener who's there giving out the tickets and taking the admission money. He'll swear she hasn't left.'
'There are other ways of leaving than by the main gate, I suppose?'
'Oh, yes, sir. There's the path down to the ferry but the old boy down there – Merdell, his name is – is also quite positive that she hasn't left that way. He's about a hundred, but pretty reliable, I think. He described quite clearly how the foreign gentleman arrived in his launch and asked the way to Nasse House. The old man told him he must go up the road to the gate and pay for admission. But he said the gentleman seemed to know nothing about the fete and said he was a relation of the family. So the old man set him on the path up from the ferry through the woods. Merdell seems to have been hanging about the quay all the afternoon so he'd be pretty sure to have seen her ladyship if she'd come that way. Then there's the top gate that leads over the fields to Hoodown Park, but that's been wired up because of trespassers, so she didn't go through there. Seems as though she must be still here, doesn't it?'
'That may be so,' said the inspector, 'but there's nothing to prevent her, is there, from slipping under a fence and going off across country? Sir George is still complaining of trespassing here from the hostel next door, I understand. If you can get in the way the trespassers get in, you can get out the same way, I suppose.'
'Oh, yes, sir, indubitably, sir. But I've talked to her maid, sir. She's wearing -' Cottrell consulted a paper in his hand – 'a dress of cyclamen crepe georgette (whatever that is), a large black hat, black court shoes with four-inch french heels. Not the sort of things you'd wear for a cross-country run.'
'She didn't change her clothes?'
'No. I went into that with the maid. There's nothing missing – nothing whatever. She didn't pack a suitcase or anything of that kind. She didn't even change her shoes. Every pair's there and accounted for.'
Inspector Bland frowned. Unpleasant possibilities were rising in his mind. He said curtly;
'Get me that secretary woman again – Bruce – whatever her name is.'
II
Miss Brewis came in looking rather more ruffled than usual, and a little out of breath.
'Yes, Inspector?' she said. 'You wanted me? If it isn't urgent. Sir George is in a terrible state and -'
'What's he in a state about?'
'He's only just realised that Lady Stubbs is – well, really missing. I told him she's probably only gone for a walk in the woods or something, but he's got it into his head that something's happened to her. Quite absurd.'
'It might not be so absurd, Miss Brewis. After all we've had one – murder here this afternoon.'
'You surely don't think that Lady Stubbs -? But that's ridiculous! Lady Stubbs can look after herself.'
'Can she?'
'Of course she can! She's a grown woman, isn't she?'
'But rather a helpless one, by all accounts '
'Nonsense,' said Miss Brewis. 'It suits Lady Stubbs now and then to play the helpless nitwit if she doesn't want to do anything. It takes her husband and in, I dare say, but it doesn't take me in!'
'You don't like her very much, Miss Brewis?'
Bland sounded gently interested.
Miss Brewis's lips closed in a thin line.
'It's not my business either to like or dislike her,' she said.
The door burst open and Sir George came in.
'Look here,' he said violently, 'you've got to do something. Where's Hattie? You've got to find Hattie. What the hell's going on round here I don't know. This confounded fete – some ruddy homicidal maniac's got in here, paying his half-crown and looking like everyone else, spending his afternoon going round murdering people. That's what it looks like to me.'
'I don't think we need take such an exaggerated view as that, Sir George.'
'It's all very well for you sitting there behind the table, writing things down. What I want is my wife.'
'I'm having the grounds searched, Sir George.'
'Why did nobody tell me she'd disappeared? She's been missing a couple of hours now, it seems. I thought it was odd that she didn't turn up to judge the Children's Fancy Dress stuff, but nobody told me she'd really gone.'
'Nobody knew,' said the inspector.
'Well, someone ought to've known. Somebody ought to have noticed.'
He turned on Miss Brewis.
'You ought to have known, Amanda, you were keeping an eye on things.'
'I can't be everywhere,' said Miss Brewis. She sounded suddenly almost tearful. 'I've got so much to see to. If Lady Stubbs chose to wander away -'
'Wander away? Why should she wander away? She'd no reason to wander away unless she wanted to avoid that dago fellow.'
Bland seized his opportunity.
'There is something I want to ask you,' he said. 'Did your wife receive a letter from Mr De Sousa some three
