Yes, that's what I mean. You didn't suggest it to her yourself, I suppose?" Valerie looked amused.

"Well, hardly, my dear man, considerin-, that a particular favourite scarf of mine was cut to ribbons. I'm not so altruistic as that." "Do you think anybody else suggested it to her?" "I should hardly think so. I should say it was just natural on her part." "What do you mean by natural?" "Well, I first had a suspicion that it was Celia when all the fuss happened about Sally's shoe. Celia was jealous of Sally. Sally Finch, I'm talking about. She's far and away the most attractive girl here and Colin paid her a fair amount of attention. So on the ni lit of this party Sally's shoe disappears and she has to go in an old black dress and black shoes. There was Celia lookin, as smug as a cat that's swallowed cream about it. Mind you, I didn't suspect her of all these petty thievings of bracelets and compacts." "Who did you think was responsible for those?" Valerie shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, I don't know. One of the cleaning women, I thought." coneaAnd the slashed rucksack?" 'Was there a slashed rucksack? I'd forgotten. That seems very pointless." "You've been here a good long time, haven't you, Miss Hobhouse?" "Well, yes. I should say I'm probably the oldest inhabitant. That is to say, I've been here about two years and a half, now." was So you probably know more about this hostel than anybody else?" "I should say so, yes." "Have you any ideas of your own about Celia Austin's death? Any idea of the motive that underlay it?" Valerie shook her bead. Her face was serious now.

"No," she said. "It was a horrible thing to happen.

I can't see anybody who could possibly have wanted Celia to die. She was a nice, harmless child, and she'd just got engaged to be married, and . .

." "Yes. And?" the Inspector prompted.

"I wondered if that was why," said Valerie slowly. "Because she'd jot engaged. Because she was going to be happy. But that means, doesn't it, somebody well-mad." She said the word with a little shiver, and Inspector Sharpe looked at her thou litfully.

"Yes," he said. "We can't quite rule out madness." He went on, "Have you any theory about the damage done to Elizabeth Johnston's notes and papers?" "No. That was a spiteful thing, too. I don't believe for a moment that Celia would do a thing like that." "Any idea who it could have been?" "Well ... Not a reasonable idea." "But an unreasonable one?" "You don't want to hear something that's just a hunch, do you, Inspector?" "I'd like to hear a hunch very much. I'll accept it as such, and it'll only be between ourselves." "Well, I may probably be quite wrong, but I've got a sort of idea that it was Patricia Lane's work." "Indeed! Now you do surprise me, Miss Hobhouse.

I shouldn't have thought of Patricia Lane. She seems @u very well balanced, amiable young lady." "I don't say she did do it. I just had a sort of idea she might have done." "For what reason in particular?" "Well, Patricia disliked Black Bess.