‘That’s what we always come back to, isn’t it?’ said Inspector Curry genially. ‘What did Christian Gulbrandsen know — about someone — that made it necessary for that someone to kill him?’

‘Exactly,’ said Mrs Strete triumphantly. ‘It must be Walter Hudd.’

‘Unless it’s someone nearer home.’

Mildred said sharply:

‘What did you mean by that?’

Inspector Curry said slowly:

‘Mr Gulbrandsen seemed very concerned about Mrs Serrocold’s health whilst he was here.’

Mrs Strete frowned.

‘Men always fuss over mother because she looks fragile. I think she likes them to! Or else Christian had been listening to Juliet Bellever.’

‘You’re not worried about your mother’s health yourself, Mrs Strete?’

‘No. I hope I’m sensible. Naturally mother is not young — ’

‘And death comes to all of us,’ said Inspector Curry. ‘But not ahead of its appointed time. That’s what we have to prevent.’

He spoke meaningly. Mildred Strete flared into sudden animation.

‘Oh it’s wicked — wicked. No one else here really seems to care. Why should they? I’m the only person who was a blood relation to Christian. To mother, he was only a grown-up stepson. To Gina, he isn’t really any relation at all. But he was my own brother.’

‘Half-brother,’ suggested Inspector Curry.

‘Half-brother, yes. But we were both Gulbrandsens in spite of the difference in age.’

Curry said gently:

‘Yes — yes, I see your point…’

Tears in her eyes, Mildred Strete marched out. Curry looked at Lake.

‘So she’s quite sure it’s Walter Hudd,’ he said. ‘Won’t entertain for a moment the idea of its being anybody else.’

‘And she may be right.’

‘She certainly may. Wally fits. Opportunity — and motive. Because if he wants money quick, his wife’s mother would have to die. So Wally tampers with her tonic, and Christian Gulbrandsen sees him do it — or hears about it in some way. Yes, it fits very nicely.’

He paused and said:

‘By the way, Mildred Strete likes money…She mayn’t spend it, but she likes it. I’m not sure why…She may be a miser — with a miser’s passion. Or she may like the power that money gives. Money for benevolence, perhaps? She’s a Gulbrandsen. She may want to emulate Father.’

‘Complex, isn’t it?’ said Sergeant Lake, and scratched his head.

Inspector Curry said:

‘We’d better see this screwy young man Lawson, and after that we’ll go to the Great Hall and work out who was where — and if — and why — and when… We’ve heard one or two rather interesting things this morning.’

II

It was very difficult, Inspector Curry thought, to get a true estimate of someone from what other people said.

Edgar Lawson had been described by a good many different people that morning, but looking at him now, Curry’s own impressions were almost ludicrously different.

Edgar did not impress him as ‘queer’ or ‘dangerous,’ or ‘arrogant’ or even as ‘abnormal.’ He seemed a very ordinary young man, very much cast down and in a state of humility approaching that of Uriah Heep’s. He looked young and slightly common and rather pathetic.