‘He never threw his boots at you, I suppose?’

‘I don’t mind that,’ Ford said. ‘I mean, it didn’t happen often. Just a bit of temper. I could generally manage him.’

‘You could generally manage him, but you were scared to go into his room without his sending for you?’

‘Well, he wouldn’t have liked that. I didn’t set out to get on the wrong side of him, naturally. I knew he was in one of his bad moods. He didn’t like Miss Paula bringing Mr Roydon down here.’

‘Was that what had put him out?’

‘That, and something Mr Mottisfont had done. He was grumbling on about it yesterday morning, while I was helping him to get dressed.’

‘Grumbling to you?’

‘Well, not so much to me as to himself, if you take my meaning, sir. It was quite a habit with him to let off steam to me when any of the family had annoyed him.’

‘Seems to me all the family had annoyed him this time.’

The valet hesitated. ‘Well, of course, Mr Joseph had properly got under his skin, inviting a party down here for Christmas, and he took a regular dislike to Miss Dean, and he was angry with Miss Paula for making a fool of herself over a long-haired playwright – that’s the way he put it, you understand – but it would not be fair to say that he was hot-up against Mr Stephen. He used to hit it off very well with him.’

‘Are you telling me he hadn’t quarrelled with Mr Stephen?’

‘No, I’m not. He was the kind who’d quarrel with his own mother. All I say is that he and Mr Stephen understood one another and there wasn’t a bit of ill-will between them.’

‘Oh!’ said Hemingway, eyeing him strangely. ‘So you hadn’t any reason to suppose that there was any kind of break between them on account of Miss Dean?’

‘It would have blown over,’ Ford said, giving him back stare for stare.

‘All right, that’s all,’ said Hemingway curtly.

The Sergeant, who had listened silently to the whole of this interchange, said as soon as Ford had withdrawn: ‘I thought you were riding him a bit hard, Chief.’

‘If it wasn’t for the laws of this country I’d have ridden him harder,’ responded Hemingway. ‘I don’t like his story.’

‘Seems a funny kind of a house altogether,’ pondered the Sergeant. ‘It struck me, remembering what he said to Inspector Colwall, that he’s about the only person, barring Mr Joseph Herriard, who’s anxious to give Stephen Herriard a good character.’

‘Well, I’m glad something strikes you,’ said Hemingway testily. ‘What’s been striking me from the start is that the only finger-prints found on the windows or on the bathroom key are Ford’s.’

‘It’s reasonable, though, that his finger-prints should be found, isn’t it, sir?’

‘When I come up against a queer case, I don’t like reasonable evidence,’ said Hemingway.

‘If he’s only been here a matter of nine months, I don’t see what he’s got to gain by murdering his master.’