Colwall shook his head. ‘It’s got me beat. If there wasn’t any hanky-panky with the key – and that’s an expert’s job, when you come to think of it – I don’t see how anyone could have got in.’

‘No; but there’s one piece of evidence we mustn’t forget,’ interposed the Chief Constable. ‘Stephen Herriard’s cigarette-case was found lying on the floor by the fire, half-hidden by an armchair.’

‘That doesn’t look so good for Stephen Herriard,’ said Hemingway. ‘Does he own it?’

‘Yes, he owned it, but Miss Clare deposed that he had given it to Miss Dean before he went up to change for dinner.’

‘What did she have to say to that?’ asked Hemingway, addressing himself to Colwall.

Inspector Colwall sighed. ‘She had a lot to say, being one of those who can’t give you a plain yes or no. Anyone would have thought she expected to be charged with having committed the murder, simply through admitting she’d had the case! In the end, she did say she’d had it, but she swore she never took it out of the drawing-room. Her theory is that Mr Stephen himself must have picked it up, and I’m bound to say it’s likely he did.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He didn’t say much,’ answered Colwall reflectively. ‘He didn’t, so to speak, get much chance, for Miss Clare started in to tell Miss Dean off good and proper, and what with that, and Mr Joseph trying to make me believe the case might have slipped out of Mr Stephen’s pocket after the murder had been discovered, when he was bending over the body –’

‘Could it?’ interrupted Hemingway.

‘Not a chance, seeing where it was found. Mr Stephen saw that himself. If he’d been sitting in a chair by the fire, though, and took out his case for a cigarette, and put it back sort of careless, so that it didn’t slip into his pocket, but fell into the chair instead, and maybe slid off when he got up – well, that might account for it.’

‘Sat down with his uncle for a chat and a quiet smoke, and then murdered him when he wasn’t looking?’ demanded Hemingway. ‘Cold-blooded chap he’d have to be!’

‘He is,’ said the Major shortly. ‘Anyone will tell you that.’

‘That’s right,’ agreed Colwall. ‘Cold as a fish, that’s what he is. Why, from all I could see, he doesn’t even care two pins for that girl of his! Didn’t turn a hair when Miss Clare said that she’d had his cigarette-case. You don’t catch him trying to shield anyone!’

‘Well, that’s a comfort, anyway,’ said Hemingway. ‘If there’s one thing that gets my goat more than another, it’s coming up against a man with a lot of silly, noble ideas in his head which don’t do any good to anyone. Is that all the evidence we’ve got, Inspector?’

‘Not quite, it isn’t. One of the housemaids saw Miss Herriard coming away from her uncle’s door in her dressing-gown. A bit after, the valet heard a footstep in the front hall, as he was coming up the backstairs. He just saw Mr Roydon’s door shut. But Mr Roydon gave a perfectly reasonable explanation for that; and as for Miss Herriard, she made no bones about admitting she’d tried to get into her uncle’s room, to have her row out with him. She says she found the door locked, and didn’t get any answer to her knock.’