‘Between Mr Stephen and the deceased?’

‘Well, yes,’ admitted Joseph. ‘It’s no use trying to conceal from you that my poor brother was in a very bad humour, for I’m sure you’ve already been told that. His lumbago was troubling him, and there was this business of Mottisfont’s, besides the rather unfortunate affair of young Roydon’s play. I did my best to pour oil, and I will readily admit that I was on tenterhooks lest Stephen should upset all his chances by – by irritating his uncle. That’s why I spoke to Miss Dean.’

‘So that unless Miss Dean told him, you don’t think he had any knowledge of his uncle’s having made this will?’

‘Not from me! I don’t know what my brother may have told him, but I can assure you I never said anything about it.’

The Inspector’s excellent memory again proved disconcerting. ‘But when Mr Herriard and his nephew had words after the reading of Mr Roydon’s play, didn’t Mr Herriard speak of making a few changes?’

‘Really, I don’t think I heard him! In any case, it was the sort of thing he might say if he was in a temper.’

‘But it would imply, wouldn’t it, that he had reason to believe that Mr Stephen knew of the provisions of this will?’

‘I suppose it would,’ agreed Joseph unhappily. ‘But you can’t mean to suggest that Stephen – Oh no, no! I won’t believe such a horrible thing!’

‘I’m not suggesting anything, sir; I’m only trying to get at the truth.’

Joseph wrung his hands in one of his agitated gestures. ‘Ah, you think me a foolish old fellow, but I can’t but see what you suspect! I know that things do look black against my nephew, but I for one am convinced that the murder wasn’t committed by anyone under this roof!’

‘How’s that, sir? What reason have you to think that?’ asked the Inspector quickly.

‘Sometimes,’ answered Joseph, ‘intuition proves to be sounder than reason, Inspector!’

‘I’ll have to take your word for that, sir,’ replied the disillusioned Inspector. ‘I haven’t found it so myself. Of course, that’s not to say I won’t.’

‘Try to keep an open mind!’ Joseph begged.

‘I’m paid to do that, sir,’ said Hemingway, somewhat acidly. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll finish what I have to do here with Mr Blyth.’

This was too pointed to be ignored. Joseph went away, his seraphic brow creased with worry. Blyth said, with a slight smile: ‘He means well, Inspector.’

‘Yes, that’s a vice that makes more trouble than any other,’ said Hemingway. ‘If you ask me, there very likely wouldn’t have been a murder at all if it hadn’t been for him getting ideas about peace and goodwill, and assembling all these highly uncongenial people under the same roof at the same time.’

‘I fear you are a cynic, Inspector.’

‘You get to be in my profession,’ replied Hemingway.

The inspection of the rest of Nathaniel’s papers did not take long, nor was anything of further interest discovered amongst them. The solicitor was soon at liberty to join the rest of the house-party in the library; and Hemingway went off in search of his Sergeant.