“I’ve always wanted to have a look at this set,” he said surprisingly.
“You are free to do so now,” said Alleyn politely. “We have finished with it for the time being.”
“Look here,” said Arthur suddenly, “suppose metal knobs were substituted for bakelite ones, it couldn’t kill him. He wouldn’t get a shock at all. Both the controls are grounded.”
“Have you noticed those very small holes drilled through the panel?” asked Alleyn. “Should they be there, do you think?”
Arthur peered at the little steel shafts. “By God, he’s right, Guy,” he said. “That’s how it was done.”
“Inspector Fox,” said Alleyn, “tells me those holes could be used for conducting wires and that a lead could be taken from the—the transformer, is it?—to one of the knobs.”
“And the other connected to earth,” said Fox. “It’s a job for an expert. He could get three hundred volts or so that way.”
“That’s not good enough,” said Arthur quickly; “there wouldn’t be enough current to do any damage—only a few hundredths of an amp.”
“I’m not an expert,” said Alleyn, “but I’m sure you’re right. Why were the holes drilled then? Do you imagine someone wanted to play a practical joke on your father?”
“A practical joke? On him?” Arthur gave an unpleasant screech of laughter. “Do you hear that, Guy?”
“Shut up,” said Guy. “After all, he is dead.”
“It seems almost too good to be true, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t be a bloody fool, Arthur. Pull yourself together. Can’t you see what this means? They think he’s been murdered.”
“Murdered! They’re wrong. None of us had the nerve for that, Mr. Inspector. Look at me. My hands are so shaky they told me I’d never be able to paint. That dates from when I was a kid and he shut me up in the cellars for a night. Look at me. Look at Guy. He’s not so vulnerable, but he caved in like the rest of us. We were conditioned to surrender. Do you know—”
“Wait a moment,” said Alleyn quietly. “Your brother is quite right, you know. You’d better think before you speak. This may be a case of homicide.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Guy quickly. “That’s extraordinarily decent of you. Arthur’s a bit above himself. It’s a shock.”
“The relief, you mean,” said Arthur. “Don’t be such an ass. I didn’t kill him and they’ll find it out soon enough. Nobody killed him. There must be some explanation.”
“I suggest that you listen to me,” said Alleyn. “I’m going to put several questions to both of you. You need not answer them, but it will be more sensible to do so. I understand no one but your father touched this radio. Did any of you ever come into this room while it was in use?”
“Not unless he wanted to vary the program with a little bullying,” said Arthur.
Alleyn turned to Guy, who was glaring at his brother.
“I want to know exactly what happened in this house last night. As far as the doctors can tell us, your father died not less than three and not more than eight hours before he was found. We must try to fix the time as accurately as possible.”
“I saw him at about a quarter to nine,” began Guy slowly. “I was going out to a supper-party at the Savoy and had come downstairs. He was crossing the hall from the drawing-room to his room.”
“Did you see him after a quarter to nine, Mr. Arthur?”
“No. I heard him, though. He was working in here with Hislop. Hislop had asked to go away for Christmas. Quite enough. My father discovered some urgent correspondence. Really, Guy, you know, he was pathological. I’m sure Dr. Meadows thinks so.”
“When did you hear him?” asked Alleyn.
“Some time after Guy had gone. I was working on a drawing in my room upstairs. It’s above his. I heard him bawling at little Hislop. It must have been before ten o’clock, because I went out to a studio party at ten. I heard him bawling as I crossed the hall.”
“And when,” said Alleyn, “did you both return?”
“I came home at about twenty past twelve,” said Guy immediately. “I can fix the time because we had gone on to Chez Carlo, and they had a midnight stunt there. We left immediately afterwards. I came home in a taxi. The radio was on full blast.”
“You heard no voices?”
“None. Just the wireless.”
“And you, Mr. Arthur?”
“Lord knows when I got in. After one. The house was in darkness. Not a sound.”
“You had your own key?”
“Yes,” said Guy. “Each of us has one. They’re always left on a hook in the lobby. When I came in I noticed Arthur’s was gone.”
“What about the others? How did you know it was his?”
“Mother hasn’t got one and Phips lost hers weeks ago. Anyway, I knew they were staying in and that it must be Arthur who was out.”
“Thank you,” said Arthur ironically.
“You didn’t look in the study when you came in,” Alleyn asked him.
“Good Lord, no,” said Arthur as if the suggestion was fantastic. “I say,” he said suddenly, “I suppose he was sitting here—dead. That’s a queer thought.” He laughed nervously. “Just sitting here, behind the door in the dark.”
“How do you know it was in the dark?”
“What d’you mean? Of course it was. There was no light under the door.”
“I see. Now do you two mind joining your mother again? Perhaps your sister will be kind enough to come in here for a moment. Fox, ask her, will you?”
Fox returned to the drawing-room with Guy and Arthur and remained there, blandly unconscious of any embarrassment his presence might cause the Tonkses. Bailey was already there, ostensibly examining the electric points.
Phillipa went to the study at once. Her first remark was characteristic. “Can I be of any help?” asked Phillipa.
“It’s extremely nice of you to put it like that,” said Alleyn. “I don’t want to worry you for long. I’m sure this discovery has been a shock to you.”
“Probably,” said Phillipa. Alleyn glanced quickly at her. “I mean,” she explained, “that I suppose I must be shocked but I can’t feel anything much. I just want to get it all over as soon as possible. And then think. Please tell me what has happened.”
Alleyn told her they believed her father had been electrocuted and that the circumstances were unusual and puzzling. He said nothing to suggest that the police suspected murder.
“I don’t think I’ll be much help,” said Phillipa, “but go ahead.”
“I want to try to discover who was the last person to see your father or speak to him.”
“I should think very likely I was,” said Phillipa composedly. “I had a row with him before I went to bed.”
“What about?”
“I don’t see that it matters.”
Alleyn considered this. When he spoke again it was with deliberation.
“Look here,” he said, “I think there is very little doubt that your father was killed by an electric shock from his wireless set. As far as I know the circumstances are unique. Radios are normally incapable of giving a lethal shock to anyone. We have examined the cabinet and are inclined to think that its internal arrangements were disturbed last night. Very radically disturbed. Your father may have experimented with it. If anything happened to interrupt or upset him, it is possible that in the excitement of the moment he made some dangerous re-adjustment.”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” asked Phillipa calmly.
“Since you ask me,” said Alleyn, “no.”
“I see,” said Phillipa; “you think he was murdered, but you’re not sure.” She had gone very white, but she spoke crisply. “Naturally you want to find out about my row.”
“About everything that happened last evening,” amended Alleyn.