‘Oh yes, it must indeed! Mr Joseph was quite distracted, rubbing poor Mr Herriard’s hands, and seeming as though he couldn’t believe he was dead. Very devoted to Mr Herriard, he was.’

‘Was Mr Stephen much upset?’

‘Well, Inspector, Mr Stephen’s not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, as the saying is, but it stands to reason it must have upset him, particularly when he hadn’t been on good terms with Mr Herriard, by all accounts. He looked very white, and spoke to me very curt. He told me he could do with the brandy himself, and he took the tray out of my hands, and told me to go and ring up the doctor. Mr Joseph was nearly crying, and he said not to speak of Mr Herriard’s death to anyone else. He was a bit upset by Mr Stephen’s manner, Mr Stephen having a rough tongue, as anyone will tell you. But there’s many as will cover up what they feel by a rough manner, and I didn’t set any store by anything Mr Stephen said, for I saw his hand shaking, and I could see he’d had a jolt. What’s more, Mr Stephen doesn’t get on with Mr Joseph, being crossgrained, and never having liked Mr Joseph’s coming to live at Lexham, by all accounts. Mr Joseph sort of brings out the worst in him, if you take my meaning.’

‘Jealous of him, was he?’

‘I wouldn’t like to say that, Inspector, though I have heard it said that Mr Stephen was afraid Mr Joseph would put his nose out of joint. But I never believed that, because Mr Stephen’s no fool, and anyone could see Mr Joseph’s as innocent as a newborn babe, with no more notion of that kind of thing than nothing at all. In my opinion, it was just Mr Joseph’s way that got Mr Stephen’s goat.’

‘H’m!’ said the Inspector. ‘You like Mr Stephen, don’t you?’

‘I’ve never had any cause to dislike him. He’s always been pleasant enough to me, whenever I’ve waited on him, which I often have.’

‘Got a temper, by what I hear.’

‘Yes, like Mr Herriard he is, in some ways, except that he’s not one to tell the world what he’s thinking, by any means. You knew where you were with Mr Herriard, but Mr Stephen’s no talker, and you wouldn’t get to the bottom of him in a hurry. And I don’t think the worse of him for that.’

‘No reason why you should,’ said the Inspector, closing the interview.

Maggie, when summoned to the morning-room, twisted her apron between her fingers, and said in a frightened gasp that she didn’t wish to get anyone into trouble. When her alarms had been allayed, and she had been permitted to unburden herself of a highly coloured account of her own reactions to the crime, which included such interesting details as Coming Over Ever So Queer, and suffering equally from palpitations and a total inability to believe that anyone could have murdered the master, she admitted that she had seen Miss Paula and Mr Roydon go into Miss Paula’s room, and had heard the murmur of their voices, the door having been left ajar. Later, when she had come up the backstairs with Miss Paula’s dress, which she had gone downstairs to fetch, having had it in the kitchen to dry, because of the stain on it which Miss Paula had asked her to wash out, she had caught a glimpse of Miss Paula outside the master’s door, just coming away, as though she had been in to speak to him.