‘I understand that Mr Roydon came to get Mr Herriard to finance a play of his?’

‘That was the general idea,’ admitted Mathilda. ‘But Mr Herriard thought not.’

‘Very upsetting for Mr Roydon,’ said the Inspector invitingly.

‘Not at all. He is now determined to let the play stand on its merits.’

‘Oh! And Miss Herriard?’

‘Miss Herriard,’ responded Mathilda coolly, ‘treated the assembled company to a dramatic scene – she’s an actress, good in emotional rôles. I wasn’t present, but I’m told that she and Mr Herriard had a really splendid quarrel, and enjoyed themselves hugely.’

‘Seems a funny way to enjoy yourself, miss.’

‘It would seem funny to you or to me, Inspector, but not, believe me, to a Herriard.’

He shook his head dubiously, and asked, without much hope, where she had been between seven-thirty and dinner-time.

‘Changing in my room,’ she replied. ‘Joseph Herriard will bear me out. His dressing-room communicates with my bathroom, and we not only went upstairs together, but he chat – talked to me all the time I was changing. What’s more, we came downstairs together. That’s my alibi, Inspector.’

He thanked her gravely, refusing to be drawn, and said that he would like to interview the servants.

‘Just ring the bell,’ said Mathilda, rising, and walking to the door. ‘You will then be able to start on the butler.’

She rejoined her fellow-guests in the drawing-room. ‘Well?’ said Stephen.

‘I did what I could for you,’ she replied. ‘He’s now about to pump Sturry.’

‘That ought to finish us,’ he said grimly. ‘Sturry was listening outside the door when the storm broke.’

Seven

The Inspector, who had been confronted with condescension in Roydon, hostility in Paula, now encountered, as Sturry majestically advanced into the morning-room, a lofty disdain which would have caused a more sensitive soul to shrink.

‘You rang, Inspector?’ said Sturry, conveying a suggestion of astonishment.

The Inspector felt in a vague way that he had committed a solecism, but he was strong in the consciousness of his duty, and he replied firmly: ‘Yes, I rang. I want to ask you a few questions. Is your name Albert Sturry?’

‘My name, Inspector, is Albert Reginald Sturry.’

The Inspector repressed an impulse to beg his pardon, and wrote the name in his notebook. ‘You are employed here as butler?’

‘I have served Mr Herriard in that capacity for four years and seven months,’ replied Sturry. ‘Previous to that, I was with the late Sir Barnabas Lancing, of Lancing Towers, and Upper Eaton Place.’

The Inspector made a note of this, but wisely thrust Sir Barnabas into the background. He said: ‘Now, what do you know about this business?’

The arctic light in Sturry’s eye plainly informed him that if he imagined he could address a respectable butler in this fashion he would find himself much mistaken. ‘I regret that I am unable to assist you,’ said Sturry. ‘It being no part of my duties to pry into the affairs of my employers.’