responded with a smile. To the Inspector she said, “I sometimes call him Uncle Roly, though he's my guardian, not my uncle. But he's so sweet to me always.”
“Yes, I can see that,” was the Inspector's dry response.
“Do ask me anything you want to, Inspector,” Clarissa continued graciously. “Though actually I don't think I can help you very much, I'm afraid, because I just don't know anything at all about any of this.”
Sir Rowland sighed, shook his head slightly, and turned away.
“We shan't worry you for long, madam,” the Inspector assured Clarissa. Going to the library door, he held it open and turned to address Sir Rowland. “Will you join the other gentlemen in the library, sir?” he suggested.
“I think I'd better remain here, in case – ” Sir Rowland began, only to be interrupted by the Inspector, whose tone had now become firmer. “I'll call you if it should be necessary, sir. In the library, please.”
After a short duel of eyes, Sir Rowland conceded defeat and left the room by the library door. The Inspector closed the door after him and indicated silently to the Constable that he should sit and take notes. Clarissa swung her feet off the sofa and sat up as the Constable got out his notebook and pencil.
“Now, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown,” the Inspector began, “if you're ready, let's make a start.” He picked up the cigarette-box from the table by the sofa, turned it over, opened it, and looked at the cigarettes in it.
“Dear Uncle Roly, he always wants to spare me everything,” Clarissa told the Inspector with an enchanting smile. Then, seeing him handling the cigarette-box, she became anxious. “This isn't going to be the third degree or anything, is it?” she asked, trying to make her question sound like a joke.
“Nothing of that kind, madam, I assure you,” said the Inspector. “Just a few simple questions.” He turned to the Constable. “Are you ready, Jones?” he asked, as he pulled out a chair from the bridge table, turned it around, and sat facing Clarissa.
“All ready, sir,” Constable Jones replied.
“Good. Now, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown,” the Inspector began, “do you say that you had no idea there was a body concealed in that recess?”
The Constable began his note-taking as Clarissa answered, wide-eyed, “No, of course not. It's horrible.” She shivered. “Quite horrible.”
The Inspector looked at her inquiringly. “When we were searching this room,” he asked, “why didn't you call our attention to that recess?”
Clarissa met his gaze with a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Do you know, ” she said, “the thought never struck me. You see, we never use the recess, so it just didn't come into my head.”
The Inspector pounced. “But you said,” he reminded her, “that you had just been through there into the library.”
“Oh, no,” Clarissa exclaimed quickly. “You must have misunderstood me.” She pointed to the library door. “What I meant was that we had gone through that door into the library.”
“Yes, I certainly must have misunderstood you,” the Inspector observed grimly. “Now, let me at least be clear about this. You say you have no idea when Mr. Costello came back to this house, or what he might have come for?”
“No, I simply can't imagine,” Clarissa replied, her voice dripping with innocent candour.
“But the fact remains that he did come back,” the Inspector persisted.
“Yes, of course. We know that now.”
“Well, he must have had some reason,” the Inspector pointed out.
“I suppose so,” Clarissa agreed. “But I've no idea what it could have been.”
The Inspector thought for a moment, and then tried another line of approach. “Do you think that perhaps he wanted to see your husband?” he suggested.
“Oh, no,” Clarissa replied quickly, “I'm quite sure he didn't. Henry and he never liked each other.”
“Oh!” the Inspector exclaimed. “They never liked each other. I didn't realise that. Had
“Yes, I can see that,” was the Inspector's dry response.
“Do ask me anything you want to, Inspector,” Clarissa continued graciously. “Though actually I don't think I can help you very much, I'm afraid, because I just don't know anything at all about any of this.”
Sir Rowland sighed, shook his head slightly, and turned away.
“We shan't worry you for long, madam,” the Inspector assured Clarissa. Going to the library door, he held it open and turned to address Sir Rowland. “Will you join the other gentlemen in the library, sir?” he suggested.
“I think I'd better remain here, in case – ” Sir Rowland began, only to be interrupted by the Inspector, whose tone had now become firmer. “I'll call you if it should be necessary, sir. In the library, please.”
After a short duel of eyes, Sir Rowland conceded defeat and left the room by the library door. The Inspector closed the door after him and indicated silently to the Constable that he should sit and take notes. Clarissa swung her feet off the sofa and sat up as the Constable got out his notebook and pencil.
“Now, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown,” the Inspector began, “if you're ready, let's make a start.” He picked up the cigarette-box from the table by the sofa, turned it over, opened it, and looked at the cigarettes in it.
“Dear Uncle Roly, he always wants to spare me everything,” Clarissa told the Inspector with an enchanting smile. Then, seeing him handling the cigarette-box, she became anxious. “This isn't going to be the third degree or anything, is it?” she asked, trying to make her question sound like a joke.
“Nothing of that kind, madam, I assure you,” said the Inspector. “Just a few simple questions.” He turned to the Constable. “Are you ready, Jones?” he asked, as he pulled out a chair from the bridge table, turned it around, and sat facing Clarissa.
“All ready, sir,” Constable Jones replied.
“Good. Now, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown,” the Inspector began, “do you say that you had no idea there was a body concealed in that recess?”
The Constable began his note-taking as Clarissa answered, wide-eyed, “No, of course not. It's horrible.” She shivered. “Quite horrible.”
The Inspector looked at her inquiringly. “When we were searching this room,” he asked, “why didn't you call our attention to that recess?”
Clarissa met his gaze with a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Do you know, ” she said, “the thought never struck me. You see, we never use the recess, so it just didn't come into my head.”
The Inspector pounced. “But you said,” he reminded her, “that you had just been through there into the library.”
“Oh, no,” Clarissa exclaimed quickly. “You must have misunderstood me.” She pointed to the library door. “What I meant was that we had gone through that door into the library.”
“Yes, I certainly must have misunderstood you,” the Inspector observed grimly. “Now, let me at least be clear about this. You say you have no idea when Mr. Costello came back to this house, or what he might have come for?”
“No, I simply can't imagine,” Clarissa replied, her voice dripping with innocent candour.
“But the fact remains that he did come back,” the Inspector persisted.
“Yes, of course. We know that now.”
“Well, he must have had some reason,” the Inspector pointed out.
“I suppose so,” Clarissa agreed. “But I've no idea what it could have been.”
The Inspector thought for a moment, and then tried another line of approach. “Do you think that perhaps he wanted to see your husband?” he suggested.
“Oh, no,” Clarissa replied quickly, “I'm quite sure he didn't. Henry and he never liked each other.”
“Oh!” the Inspector exclaimed. “They never liked each other. I didn't realise that. Had
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