She paused.
"You're quite a Sherlock Holmes," observed Charters coldly, with that formula always used by the older generation. "You young fool (if you'll excuse me), you've proved that-"
"Y' see," interposed H.M., "there's been another theory advanced. There's been a theory that you might really have given Hogenauer bromide, and that somebody later burgled the place to do some hanky-panky." He sketched out the theory, with a sort of wooden dolefulness. "Uh-huh. But now you've proved that it couldn't have happened, and put all of you back in the ring of suspects again. You've proved somebody must have done it from inside the house."
Very slowly she straightened up, turning round towards him. She barely changed colour. I thought then, and I still think, that she was a remarkable woman.
"I'm sorry," she said, after a pause. "I'd have lied to you like a shot, and pretended it was done from outside, if I'd had the Intelligence to think of it in time."
"And also given tolerable good proof of our own innocence," said H.M. rather vaguely. The invisible fly still seemed to bother him. He lumbered out into the consulting-room, with a wandering air, as though he did not know exactly where he was going. We followed him. Elizabeth Antrim opened and shut her hands.
"There's just one other thing, ma'am," H.M. went on, when he had adjusted himself in the chair. "How many telephone extensions have you got in the house?"
"Telephone extensions?" She stopped. "I don't …"
"I know, I know. But just tell me: how many telephones are there?"
"Three. The one on the desk beside you, and one out in the hall, and one up in our bedroom."
"Now, ma'am," pursued H.M., examining his fingers, "we haven't done much of this where-were-you-at-such-and-suchan-hour in this case, because we don't know enough. But I'm goin' to ask you one question about that. Where were you about three hours ago? To be exact, where were you at one thirty?"
The blue eyes widened. "My God, there hasn't been any more-?"
"No more murderin', no. Now, now, take it easy and think. Where were you at one-thirty?"
"Why… in our bedroom, I should think. You remember, they brought me back from Moreton Abbot about midnight. You had the house full of people, so there wasn't anywhere I could go but to my bedroom. I've been there ever since, except when I've been down here with you being questioned. One-thirty!" she considered. "Stop a bit. Yes, I remember, because I was looking at the clock and thinking how long the night was and how I couldn't sleep."
"And you didn't make any 'phone calls?'
"No. Phone calls! Why should I?"
"Was there anybody with you in your room, ma'am?'
"Well, Larry was more or less constantly in and out of the room. He can't and couldn't keep still, as you can understand. I believe he put his head into the room about one thirty and spoke to me, now you mention it. But what is all this? What do you want to know now?"
H.M. waved his band. "Thank you, ma'am," he said sleepily. "That's all. Here, Sergeant, you just be a gent and escort Mrs. Antrim "
"And see that I don't confer with or communicate with anyone," the woman said sweetly, with a flashing grin over her shoulder. "I understand. You needn't worry. Larry and I won't concoct a story between us."
"— and ask Dr. Antrim if he'll just come down and see us," concluded H.M. woodenly. The woman gave us a polite nod; then Sergeant Davis's broad back blotted her out. H.M. remained twiddling his thumbs for a moment, after which he grunted and spoke cryptically:
"Y'know, that woman's got possibilities."
"I agree," said Evelyn.
"You got a temper, you have," said H.M., peering over at her. "I warned Ken he oughta look out for it. I say, what's put your back up so about that gal? She seemed nice and pleasant and attractive to me. No, don't answer. I can see your face gettin' pink. Point is, the first of the group has passed and done her mannequin-paces. Time for a first vote of the jury. What's the verdict on Elizabeth A.? Guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty," said Charters.
"Not guilty," said I.
"Me," observed Evelyn thoughtfully, "I reserve judgment. It seems, though, that at least one thing is established out of it. She's confirmed Stone, and his story is straight enough. I'm going to be very much interested to hear what her husband has to say: I mean our Liz's husband. There's just one thing I'm wondering about. Why didn't you ask her more about that counterfeit note?"
H.M. was querulous. "Because we've got to learn more about it ourselves, that's why. So far there are only two things we do know about it: we know it's counterfeit, and we know it was in a newspaper at Hogenauer's house. Humph. The first thing we got to find out definitely is whether it's a part of the Willoughby slush… I say, Charters: is there any way of definitely tellin' where this note came from? You didn't make a list of all the Willoughby stuff, did you?"
"Certainly," said Charters, as though he rather resented this. He had been staring curiously at the door, as though something bothered him, but now he came back to business. "I took the numbers even of the forged notes. Dammit, man, the stuff was in my safe; it wouldn't do for there to have been a mix-up. That is to say, it wouldn't do for the Chief Constable of the County to give somebody a counterfeit note out of his own pocket. I can identify that one for you easily. Shall I go over and get the list?"
"In a minute, in a minute," said H.M. querulously. He looked thoughtful. "But, oh, my bleedin' eye, ain't we goin' to be up the pole if it turns out that that hundred-quid note didn't come from Willoughby's packet?"
This stopped us for a second.
"The business," I said, "is confused enough without your trying to tangle it up still more. That note must have come from the Willoughby stuff! If it didn't — look here, you don't think there are two gangs of counterfeiters operating within a dozen miles of each other, do you?"
"Oh, no. I was just sittin' and thinkin', you understand. I was just devisin' ways and means to convey something to somebody. We won't get much forrader until we have a go at Serpos and Bowers. The idea's got into my head that Serpos is both the key and the door to this business; and that's a dual role that's goin' to bother us a whole lot. But Bowers — yes, I got great hopes of Bowers."
"The little one?" asked Evelyn curiously. "Why?"
"'Hi, cocky'," quoted H.M. "I've had one go at Bowers already, and he strikes me as being a devilish shrewd lad. Burn me, look at his conduct back at the villa in Moreton Abbot! Look at the way he saw that spindle and knob missing from Hogenauer's parlour door, and immediately tumbled to what had happened, and ducked down on the floor and found the knob before Ken's thick wits had even clicked over! That wasn't half bad, you know. Well, you've been askin' yourselves a lot of questions about that hundred-quid note; but you've missed most of the important ones. Who would 'a' been closest to it? Bowers's particular province was cleanin' up litter — like newspapers. Bowers's province was the kitchen and the scullery. If anybody was likely to observe how a big bank-note got mysteriously wafted into the Daily Telegraph, it should 'a' been Bowers. Didn't he ever read the newspapers, after Hogenauer had finished with 'em? Most servants do. And, I repeat, he's an observant lad. Finally, there's one thing I want to impress on your fat heads. Ken, do you remember only to-night, when we were drivin' up there, I gave you a list of Hogenauer's accomplishments? Do you remember what I said was his greatest accomplishment?"
"You said," I answered, "that there wasn't much about engraving he didn't know, or inks, or dyes"
"Right," said H.M., and opened his eyes slightly, just as there was a knock at the door.
"Dr. Antrim, sir," said Sergeant Davis.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Incredible Burglar