Hemingway laughed, and got up. “He does seem to have made himself unpopular,” he agreed. “I won't take up any more of your time now, sir.”
“Not at all,” said the Vicar courteously. “My time is at the disposal of those who may need it.”
He then escorted Hemingway to the front-door, shook hands with him, and said that he could have wished to have met him on a happier occasion.
Constable Melkinthorpe then drove away, asking the Chief Inspector, as he halted the car in the Vicarage gateway, which way he was to go. He was told to drive to Rose Cottages, and, after allowing a boy on a bicycle to pass down the High Street, he swung his wheel over to the left, and was just changing gear when the Chief Inspector told him to stop. He obediently pulled in to the side of the street, and saw Major Midgeholme crossing the road towards the car.
“Good-evening, sir!” said Hemingway. “Want me?”
“Yes,” said the Major, with an air of resolution. “I have been turning it over in my mind, and I think it's my duty to put you in possession of a piece of information. Mind you, it may be nothing! I don't say I attach much importance to it, but one never knows, and in such cases as this I consider it to be every man's duty to tell the police whatever he may know.”
“Quite right, sir,” said Hemingway, and waited.
But the Major seemed still to be a little undecided. “Can't say I like talking about my neighbours!” he said. “But when it comes to murder, things are different. My feeling is that if what I have to say is irrelevant, there's no harm done; and if it isn't—well! There's no denying that this business has made us all sit up—do a bit of thinking! I'm not going to pretend I know who did it, because I don't. Between you and me and the gate-post, there's a bit too much amateur detection going on in Thornden! Shouldn't like you to think I was trying to do your job for you, but of course I've thought about it a good deal, and talked it over with one or two people. As a matter of fact, I was discussing it with my wife last night—she's got her own theories, but I shan't go into that, for I don't agree with her. Point is, it's been in my mind all along that the two people who disliked Warrenby the most were Drybeck and Plenmeller. Now, when Drybeck and I were on our way to The Cedars on Saturday, Plenmeller joined us, and one of the things he said was that his was the only threshold in Thornden which Warrenby couldn't cross.” The Major paused impressively. “Well, I happened to mention that to my wife, and she told me that she had seen Warrenby go into Thornden House on Saturday morning! Of course, she doesn't know what he went for, or for how long he was with Plenmeller, for she was shopping, and she thought no more about it. I didn't set much store by it myself when she first told me, but I've been turning it over in my mind, and I've come to the conclusion you ought to know about it. As I say, there may be nothing in it. On the other hand, queer thing to do—boast that Warrenby had never crossed his threshold when he'd done so that very morning! Almost as if he wanted to make sure no one should think he'd had any dealings with the fellow.”
Constable Melkinthorpe, glancing at the Chief Inspector to see what effect this disclosure had upon him was not surprised to perceive that his calm was quite unruffled.
“I see,” said Hemingway, gravely. “He'd have to be a bit of an optimist, wouldn't he, sir to think no one would notice Mr. Warrenby going to call on him, on a Saturday morning, right on the village street?”
“Well,” said the Major, shrugging, “I've told you for what it's worth, that's all!” He looked up, and stiffened a little. Gavin Plenmeller, coming from the direction of his house, was crossing the road diagonally towards them.
“Undergoing interrogation, laying information, or just passing the time of day, Major?” enquired Gavin. “I'm glad to see you here, Chief Inspector, and I'm sure the whole village shares my feeling. We confidently expected to see you in our midst at crack of dawn, but it was not to be. I may add that a certain amount of dissatisfaction has been felt. Action is what we want, and we did think that a real detective from London would provide us with plenty to talk about.”
“Well, I must be getting along,” said the Major, not quite comfortably.
Gavin looked at him, a glint in his eyes. “Now, why are you suddenly in a hurry to go away?” he wondered. “Can it be—can it possibly be—that you were telling the Chief Inspector something damaging about me?” He watched a dull red creep into the Major's cheeks, and laughed. “Splendid! What was it? Or would you prefer not to tell me?”
It was patent that the Major would very much have preferred not to tell him, but he was an officer and a gentleman, and he was not going to turn and run in the face of fire. He said boldly: “Seems to me that you've done so much talking yourself about people that you can't very well object if the tables are turned.”
“Of course I don't object!” said Gavin cordially. “I merely hope that you've dug up something good about me.”
“I haven't dug up anything. Not my business to pry into your affairs! And if you want to know what's been sticking in my mind, it's this!—Why did you tell me that Warrenby had never crossed your threshold?”
“Did I?” said Gavin, faintly surprised.
“You know damned well you did!”
“I don't. It's quite possible, of course, and I shouldn't dream of denying it, but when did I make this momentous statement?”
“You said it to Drybeck and to me when we were walking up Wood Lane on Saturday. You said that yours was the only threshold he couldn't cross.”
“I spoke no less than the truth, then. Yes, I remember: our Thaddeus wasn't a bit pleased, was he? But what is this leading up to?”
“That won't wash, Plenmeller!” said the Major, gaining assurance with indignation. “Warrenby had crossed your threshold that very morning!”
“Take note, Chief Inspector,” said Gavin quite unmoved, “that I instantly and categorically deny this infamous accusation!”
“It may interest you to know, however, that my wife saw him go into your house!”
“She lies in her throat,” said Gavin amiably. “She may have seen him enter my garden. In fact, if she was in the High Street at the time, I should think she could hardly have escaped seeing that. She may even have noticed his very vulgar car parked at my gate. Now tell me how she saw through a brick wall and I shall be all interest!”
The Major looked a good deal taken aback, and a little sceptical. “Are you telling me he didn't enter your house?”
“You oughtn't to need telling,” Gavin reproved him. “He found me in the garden, and in the garden we remained. I don't say he didn't make a spirited attempt to cross my threshold, for he did. He had the impertinence to suggest that we should go into the house, which forced me to disclose to him that to admit him would be to break a solemn vow.”
The Major gasped. “You can't have said such a thing!”
“Nonsense, you know very well that I find not the smallest difficulty in saying to people's faces precisely what I say behind their backs!”
The Chief Inspector intervened at this point. “Why did he want to cross your threshold, sir?”
“Vaulting ambition, perhaps. It may be said to have o'erleapt itself. Or do you want to know why he wanted to see me?”
“That's it,” said Hemingway.
“Ah! Well, he came to remonstrate with me. At least, that was how he phrased it. He seemed to think I had been inserting a spoke into his wheel on various occasions, and it had come to his ears—one wonders how!—that I had spoken of him in opprobrious terms. So I told him that these allegations were true, and he then asserted that he would know how to put a stop to my activities. How he proposed to do any such thing I am unable to tell you, and, of course, we shall now never know what Napoleonic scheme he may have had in mind. I can only say that he failed to convince me that he had evolved any form of counterattack whatsoever. The remonstrance somewhat rapidly deteriorated into sound and fury. He favoured me with a catalogue of the serviced he had rendered to the country, adding, a trifle infelicitously, I felt, a list of the distinguished persons whom he had—as he regrettably put it—forced to play ball with him. After that he became incoherent, and I showed him off the premises.”