‘It is in Mr. Haile’s statement, and it is corroborated by Mr. Grey, who says he saw Mr. Haile in his room with the door half open as he came back from having a bath, Mr. Haile was in his pyjamas, and it was then eleven o’clock. So it would not have been Mr. Haile whom you heard talking to Sir Herbert in the study after you had locked up.’
‘It would seem not, sir.’
‘In your statement you go on to say that having heard the voices and decided not to go in, you finished your round and went up to bed.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then where does Professor Richardson come in?’
‘Sir?’
‘Look here, Marsham, you may be getting yourself into an awkward position. You have made a statement-you have answered questions put to you by the police. You could have refused to do so until subpoena’d by the Coroner’s court. What you cannot do and get away with it is to make a false statement.’
‘Sir!’
‘There is such a thing as a lie by implication. I daresay your statement is true as far as it goes. I daresay you passed the door of this room, heard voices, and thought that Mr. Haile was with your master. That is as far as the statement goes. And I’m telling you it doesn’t go far enough, or why didn’t you answer me when I asked you whether you were sure that Professor Richardson had not been out to this room at any time during the evening of the murder? There must have been something that made you hesitate. I am now going to ask you point-blank whether, after standing outside the study door and thinking it was Mr. Haile with Sir Herbert, you heard something that made you change your mind.’
Marsham’s face showed nothing. He said without any noticeable pause,
‘It wasn’t anything I could swear to.’
‘Well, I think you’d better tell me what it was.’
‘I had gone just past the door-’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, sir, I think I should tell you that I did hear something.’
‘What did you hear?’
Marsham said slowly,
‘It wasn’t words, sir. It was-well it was a sound. And it wasn’t the kind of sound I would have expected Mr. Haile to make.’
‘I think you’ll have to tell me what kind of a sound it was.’
Without any change in his expression Marsham blew out his large pale cheeks and emitted a sound that might have been ‘Pah!’ or’Pooh!’
The effect was laughable in the extreme, yet neither of the two who were observing him felt any inclination to laugh. The absurd imitation might very well bring its subject to his death by hanging. Miss Silver had no means of identifying this subject. Frank Abbott had. He had, in fact, not so many hours before been an entertained spectator whilst two ruddy cheeks were distended like balloons in order to expel that contemptuous ‘Pooh!’ or ‘Pah!’ He said quickly,
‘You recognized the sound?’
The contours of Marsham’s face was restored to their usual heavy dignity.
‘I wouldn’t take it on me to swear to it.’
‘I’m not asking you to swear to it. I’m asking you what you thought at the time.’
After a pause he said,
‘I thought it was the Professor.’
Frank gave a brief nod.
‘You stopped for another moment or so by the door?’
‘For no more than a moment, sir.’
‘Hear anything else?’
‘I heard Sir Herbert say something. I don’t know what it was.’
‘Did he sound angry?’
‘I couldn’t say, sir. Sir Herbert had a kind of cold way with him when he was angry. He wouldn’t raise his voice-not to notice.’
‘And that was all you heard?’
‘Yes, sir. I went along the passage, and when I had finished I went up to my room.’
CHAPTER XXVIII
The door closed upon Marsham. Frank Abbott let a full minute go by. Then rising from his chair, he strolled across and opened it again. The long passage was empty. He returned to the fire, noted that it required attention, and made an expert disposition of two small logs and a large one. When he had finished and was dusting his hands with a beautiful handkerchief in harmony with his tie and socks, he observed in a casual tone,
‘Just as well to be sure that he doesn’t make a habit of leaning against doors.’
Miss Silver looked at him across her pink knitting.
‘You think he heard more than he is willing to admit?’
‘Could be. No one ever tells everything they know-not in a murder case. I learnt that from you when I was in rompers. I thought he was holding something back. Didn’t you?’
‘I do not know. I think he recognized Professor Richardson’s voice a good deal more definitely than he admits.’
‘Oh, yes-quite definitely. Likes the old boy, I wouldn’t wonder. Was not, shall we say, extravagantly attached to the late Whitall. None of the old retainer touch about our Marsham.’
Miss Silver coughed.
‘I have yet to encounter a single person who can be said to have entertained the slightest affection for Sir Herbert Whitall.’
Frank’s fair eyebrows rose.
‘What an epitaph! “Here lies the man whom no one liked.” What would you think about adding, “and a good many people hated?” ’
‘I think it may prove to be in accordance with the facts.’
‘Nobody liked him-a good few hated him. That’s the verdict, is it? Into which of those two classes would you put Miss Whitaker?’
‘I would not care to say. There has been some strong feeling. She is undoubtedly suffering severely from shock.’
‘Well, she has been with him ten years. She may have been his mistress. I don’t suppose she murdered him. Newbury looked into her alibi, and it seems all right. She left at half past ten with the Considines, caught the Emsworth bus, and got off at the station at eleven o’clock. The sister is a Mrs. West living at 32 Station Road. She says Miss Whitaker got there just after eleven and went straight to bed-they both did. She said she had had a bad turn, and her little boy hadn’t been well. She rang her sister up because she was going to be alone in the house with him, and she wasn’t any too sure of herself.’
‘She is on the telephone?’
‘Yes, I asked about that. She has a masseuse boarding with her. She has the telephone, and allows Mrs. West to use it.’
‘And where was this masseuse?’
‘Away for the week-end. The story hangs together all right. Miss Whitaker took the ten o’clock bus back in the morning.’
Miss Silver went on knitting. From her expression Frank deduced that she still had something to say. He waited for it, leaning against the mantelshelf, the picture of an idle, elegant young man, fair hair mirror-smooth, beautifully cut dark suit. It was not very long before she coughed and said in a tentative manner,
‘For how long has Mrs. West resided in Emsworth?’
He looked a little surprised. Whatever he was expecting, it was not this.
‘Mrs. West? I don’t know. Wait a bit, I believe Newbury did mention it. There was something about her being new to the place. It came up in connection with her being alone in the house with the child. He said she probably wouldn’t know anyone she could ask to come in.’
Miss Silver pulled on a pale pink ball.
‘That is what I imagined. I think it probable that Mrs. West’s move to Emsworth followed upon Sir Herbert’s purchase of Vineyards.’
‘And the meaning of that is?’
‘I am wondering whether Miss Whitaker’s concern was so much for her sister as for a child who might have suffered if deprived of proper attention. May I ask whether Inspector Newbury mentioned the child’s age?’
‘Yes, I think he did-a little boy of eight. You mean?’
Her needles clicked. She said,
‘It is possible. It would, I think, explain some things, and suggest some others.’
As she spoke the last word, the door was opened. Frederick appeared, towering over the Professor. His ‘Professor Richardson-’ was a superfluity, since that gentleman immediately bounded into the room, his bald crown gleaming, the ruff of red hair standing up about it like a hedge. His deep voice boomed.