“At ten minutes to five. I took the boys up and started to lay tea. Then when Mr. Symmington came in at five I went down to make his but he said he would have it with us in the schoolroom. The boys were so pleased. We played Animal Grab afterwards. It seems so awful to think of now—with that poor girl in the cupboard all the time.”

“Would anybody go to that cupboard normally?”

“Oh no, it’s only used for keeping junk. The hats and coats hang in the little cloakroom to the right of the front door as you come in. No one might have gone to the other cupboard for months.”

“I see. And you noticed nothing unusual, nothing abnormal at all when you came back?”

The blue eyes opened very wide.

“Oh no, inspector, nothing at all. Everything was just the same as usual. That’s what was so awful about it.”

“And the week before?”

“You mean the day Mrs. Symmington—”

“Yes.”

“Oh, that was terrible—terrible!”

“Yes, yes, I know. You were out all that afternoon also?”

“Oh yes, I always take the boys out in the afternoon—if it’s fine enough. We do lessons in the morning. We went up on the moor, I remember—quite a long way. I was afraid I was late back because as I turned in at the gate I saw Mr. Symmington coming from his office at the other end of the road, and I hadn’t even put the kettle on, but it was just ten minutes to five.”

“You didn’t go up to Mrs. Symmington?”

“Oh no. I never did. She always rested after lunch. She had attacks of neuralgia—and they used to come on after meals. Dr. Griffith had given her some cachets to take. She used to lie down and try to sleep.”

Nash said in a casual voice:

“So no one would take her up the post?”

“The afternoon post? No, I’d look in the letter box and put the letters on the hall table when I came in. But very often Mrs. Symmington used to come down and get it herself. She didn’t sleep all the afternoon. She was usually up again by four.”

“You didn’t think anything was wrong because she wasn’t up that afternoon?”