weeks ago, telling her he was coming to this country?'
Sir George looked astonished.
'No, of course she didn't.'
'You're sure of that?'
'Oh, quite sure. Hattie would have told me. Why, she was thoroughly startled and upset when she got his letter this morning. It more or less knocked her out. She was lying down most of the morning with a headache.'
'What did she say to you privately about her cousin's visit? Why did she dread seeing him so much?'
Sir George looked rather embarrassed.
'Blessed if I really know,' he said. 'She just kept saying that he was wicked.'
'Wicked? In what way?'
'She wasn't very articulate about it. Just went on rather like a child saying that he was a wicked man. Bad; and that she wished he wasn't coming here. She said he'd done bad things.'
'Done bad things? When?'
'Oh, long ago. I should imagine this Etienne De Sousa was the black sheep of the family and that Hattie picked up odds and ends about him during her childhood without understanding them very well. And as a result she's got a sort of horror of him. I thought it was just a childish hangover myself. My wife is rather childish sometimes. Has likes and dislikes, but can't explain them.'
'You are sure she did not particularise in any way, Sir George?'
Sir George looked uneasy.
'I wouldn't want you to go by – er – by what she said.'
'Then she did say something?'
'All right. I'll let you have it. What she said was – and she said it several times – 'He kills people.''
Chapter 10
I
'He kills people,' Inspector Bland repeated.
'I don't think you ought to take it too seriously,' said Sir George. 'She kept repeating it and saying, 'He kills people,' but she couldn't tell me who he killed or when or why. I thought myself it was just some queer, childlike memory – trouble with the natives – something like that.'
'You say she couldn't tell you anything definite – do you mean couldn't, Sir George – or might it have been wouldn't?'
'I don't think…' He broke off. 'I don't know. You've muddled me. As I say, I didn't take any of it seriously. I thought perhaps this cousin had teased her a bit when she was a kid – something of that kind. It's difficult to explain to you because you don't know my wife. I am devoted to her, but half the time I don't listen to what she says because it just doesn't make sense. Anyway, this De Sousa fellow couldn't have had anything to do with all this – don't tell me he lands here off a yacht and goes straight away through the woods and kills a wretched Girl Guide in a boathouse! Why should he?'
'I'm not suggesting that anything like that happened,' said Inspector Bland, 'but you must realise, Sir George, that in looking for the murderer of Marlene Tucker the field is a more restricted one than one might think at first.'
'Restricted!' Sir George stared. 'You've got the whole ruddy fete to choose from, haven't you? Two hundred – three hundred – people? Any one of 'em might have done it.'
'Yes, I thought so at first, but from what I've learnt now that's hardly so. The boathouse door has a Yale lock. Nobody could come in from outside without a key.'
'Well, there were three keys.'
'Exactly. One key was the final clue in this Murder Hunt. It is still concealed in the hydrangea walk at the very top of the garden. The second key was in the possession of Mrs Oliver, the organiser of the Murder Hunt. Where is the third key, Sir George?'
'It ought to be in the drawer of that desk where you're sitting. No, the right-hand one with a lot of the other estate duplicates.'
He came over and rummaged in the drawer.
'Yes. Here it is all right.'
'Then you see,' said Inspector Bland, 'what that means? The only people who could have got into the boathouse were first, the person who had completed the Murder Hunt and found the key (which as far as we know, did not happen). Second, Mrs Oliver or some member of the household to whom she may have lent her key, and, third, someone whom Marlene herself admitted to the room.'
'Well, that latter point covers pretty well everyone, doesn't it?'
'Very far from it,' said Inspector Bland. 'If I understand the arrangement of this Murder Hunt correctly, when the girl heard anyone approaching the door she was to lie down and enact the part of the Victim, and wait to be discovered by the person who had found the last clue – the key. Therefore, as you must see for yourself, the only people whom she would have admitted, had they called to her from outside and asked her to do so, were the people who had actually arranged the Murder Hunt. Any inmate, that is, of this house – that is to say, yourself, Lady Stubbs, Miss Brewis, Mrs Oliver – possibly M. Poirot whom I believe she had met this morning. Who else, Sir George?'
Sir George considered for a moment or two.
'The Legges, of course,' he said. 'Alec and Sally Legge. They've been in it from the start. And Michael Weyman, he's an architect staying here in the house to design a tennis pavilion. And Warburton, the Mastertons – oh, and Mrs Folliat of course.'
'That is all – nobody else?'
'That's the lot.'
'So you see. Sir George, it is not a very wide field.'
Sir George's face went scarlet.
'I think you're talking nonsense – absolute nonsense! Are you suggesting – what are you suggesting?'
'I'm only suggesting,' said Inspector Bland, 'that there's a great deal we don't know as yet. It's possible, for instance, that Marlene, for some reason, came out of the boathouse. She may even have been strangled somewhere else, and her body brought back and arranged on the floor. But even if so, whoever arranged her was again someone who was thoroughly cognisant with all the details of the Murder Hunt. We always come back to that.' He added in a slightly changed voice, 'I can assure you, Sir George, that we're doing all we can to find Lady Stubbs. In the meantime I'd like to have a word with Mr and Mrs Alec Legge and Mr Michael Weyman.'
'Amanda.'
'I'll see what I can do about it, Inspector,' said Miss Brewis. 'I expect Mrs Legge is still telling fortunes in the tent. A lot of people have come in with the half-price admission since five o'clock, and all the side shows are busy. I can probably get hold of Mr Legge or Mr Weyman for you – whichever you want to see first.'
'It doesn't matter in what order I see them,' said Inspector Bland.
Miss Brewis nodded and left the room. Sir George followed her, his voice rising plaintively.
'Look here, Amanda, you've got to…'
Inspector Bland realised that Sir George depended a great deal upon the efficient Miss Brewis. Indeed, at this moment, Bland found the master of the house rather like a small boy.
Whilst waiting, Inspector Bland picked up the telephone, demanded to be put through to the police station at Helmmouth and made certain arrangements with them concerning the yacht Esperance.
'You realise, I suppose,' he said to Hoskins who was obviously quite incapable of realizing anything of the
