“I believe that you can swear to Miss Compton’s presence in the room at a later time than Miss MacIntyre can.”
“Correct,” I answered without hesitation. “I remember she queried a docket with me about a quarter to ten. A Windsor number was the caller, so it should be easy to trace.”
Bertie spoke for the first time: “Dockets are filed under the calling number, Inspector. I’ll have it looked up for you. Any query on a docket is always noted on the back and signed by the person handling it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” said the Inspector. “Perhaps if I could have that call at once?”
Bertie rose with alacrity. He seemed to be anxious to be up and doing. “A Windsor number you said, Miss Byrnes?” I nodded. He trotted out of the room in his fussy manner.
“Now, Miss Byrnes,” continued Inspector Coleman, as Roberts pulled the door shut. “That was definitely the last time that you saw Miss Compton?”
“I didn’t see her,” I corrected again. “Working at top speed you don’t see anything but the board and dockets that you are handling. But I’d swear that it was Compton who made the inquiry. I’d know her voice anywhere.”
Sergeant Matheson whispered to the Inspector again, who smiled a little.
“No, that is a little too subtle,” he answered, and added to me: “Sergeant Matheson suggests that it may have been someone imitating her voice, but I think that we will trust to your judgment.”
“You can rely on it,” I said firmly, directing a withering glance at the Sergeant. He reddened a little.
“You don’t know if the deceased was seen by anyone else at a later time?” I was asked. I felt Mac stir beside me and closed my eyes for a minute thinking: ‘Now what do I say? It is obvious that Mac doesn’t want me to mention her meeting, and then there is my promise to Gloria.’ Of course it would be me who came up against the difficult part. I crossed my fingers and lied bravely, hoping that I was a better actress than Mac.
John told me later that it was the silliest damn thing I did throughout that dreadful time. He adheres to the opinion that if I had told the truth, the case might have been broken then and there.
I sighed with relief as Mac drew their attention by suggesting that they query the all-night telephonists as to whether they saw her. The Inspector did not seem pleased with the advice. He probably did not like being told his business, and on any other occasion I wouldn’t have blamed him. However he made a note on his pad and asked at what time they came on duty.
“At 11 p.m.,” I informed him. “We usually went when they relieved us, but last night it was so busy that we stayed on helping to clear things up. I signed off about 11.10 p.m.” I glanced at Mac inquiringly.
“11.8 p.m.,” she said, meeting my eyes calmly.
“You can check that up with the time book,” I bit my lips, suddenly remembering Gloria Patterson. ‘Oh well, what’s the difference?’ I thought, ‘Bertie’s certain to have suggested them seeing it.’
“How many all-night telephonists were there?” asked Inspector Coleman.
“Four. Two of them came into the trunkroom a few minutes early, for which I was very glad.”
“Were you and Miss MacIntyre working near each other?”
“Have you seen the trunkroom?” I demanded, but they shook their heads together in a way that was almost comical. “The country boards, which Miss MacIntyre was working, are on the west side of the room. Pillars, inquiry posts and booking boards separate them from the interstate positions where I was on duty last night.”
“When these girls came in, did they make any mention of having spoken to Miss Compton?”
“You didn’t talk to Sarah Compton unless you had to,” I retorted. “In spite of Miss MacIntyre’s suggestion, I consider that it would be very unlikely if they saw her at all.” Mac knew what I was getting at, just as I had realized that her interruption had been to divert the two officers’ attention from my untrue statement. They appeared puzzled, so I went on to explain: “The all-night telephonists take it in turn to sleep. There is a dormitory on the seventh floor which they use instead of the cloakroom.”
“You mean that none of them would go near the eighth floor?”
“They might have,” I said carefully, “but it would not be usual. They generally leave their headsets in the dormitory all day, so that there would be no need to go up to the cloakroom when they came on duty at night.”
Inspector Coleman turned to Mac. “You knew this, Miss MacIntyre?” Mac nodded. “Then why,” he went on sternly, “did you suggest that the all-night telephonists may have seen Miss Compton?”
Mac was silent, and I cursed the Inspector for his acuteness. I realized it was going to be very difficult to continue deceiving him, but having gone thus far I could not retreat now. But it was obvious that he knew that we were both withholding something, and I was surprised that he did not press for further information. Later I learned that this was not his method, and that in spite of his calling, he was a soft-hearted man, as far as his duty would allow him.
However, he gave us a severe warning.
“Last night,” he began, punctuating his words with a tap of his pencil, “you two girls stumbled on one of the foulest crimes that can be committed. A middle-aged woman was battered to death by some person whom we only know now as a coldblooded fiend. The time of her death is uncertain, and the weapon used still undiscovered. You see, I am laying the facts before you in the effort to make you realize that this is a very serious affair, and one in which you should endeavour to render the police every possible assistance. The motive for this unfortunate woman’s death is, we imagine, due to her curiosity.”
‘I told you that,’ I thought indignantly.
“But what knowledge she held and over whom is still unknown. Therefore I ask you two girls to think, and think hard, whether there is not something more you can tell us, Miss MacIntyre?”
I gripped the edge of my chair with my wet hands. I was glad that he had asked Mac first. At least I could get my cue.
“No, nothing,” she replied in a low, tired voice.
The Inspector turned towards me, I shook my head slowly, trying to appear as if I were searching my brain.
“Very well,” said Inspector Coleman in an expressionless way, I thought that his eyes were as hard as granite. “One more matter. As you know, the Exchange building is not the accessible place it was once.” I knew what was coming. It had been in the back of my head ever since we left the building the night before, but I had tried to close my mind to it.
“Everyone,” continued the Inspector, “who wishes to enter the Exchange has to pass an armed guard, and present his or her identity pass. Therefore unless the murderer got by on a stolen pass, which we shall consider in due time, this terrible crime was perpetrated by an employee of the Telephone Department. I want you to realize that we intend to bring that person to justice even if it means questioning every single inhabitant of the building, and you have several hundred people working with you. This will make our job long and tedious, and will allow the criminal to cover his tracks and perhaps-who knows-strike again in the same cold-blooded way.”
I shivered in spite of the heat, feeling suddenly cold at the thought of an unknown killer walking freely in our midst. If the Inspector had expected some return for his dramatic speech, he was doomed to disappointment. Mac was as silent as a tomb, and I had vowed to myself that as much as I distrusted it, I would follow her lead only.
“To continue with your statement, Miss Byrnes”—I started as he spoke my name, and looked at him inquiringly—“you informed Sergeant Matheson that earlier in the evening you were accused of having locked the door of the room where the crime took place.”