‘I’ll see him later. You have another guest on the books?’ He turned the pages of the visitors’ ledger.
‘He doesn’t come till today. He’s a parson, sir,’ said Cotton.
Hallick scrutinised the ill-favoured face.
‘Have I seen you before?’
‘Not me, sir.’ Cotton was pardonably agitated.
‘Humph!’ said Hallick. ‘That will do. I’ll see Miss Redmayne.’
Goodman was in the room and now came forward.
‘I hope you are not going to bother Miss Redmayne, superintendent. She is an extremely nice girl. I may say I am—fond of her. If I were a younger man—’ He smiled. ‘You see, even tea merchants have their romances.’
‘And detectives,’ said Hallick dryly. He looked at Mr Goodman with a new interest. He had betrayed from this middle-aged man a romance which none suspected. Goodman was in love with the girl and had probably concealed the fact from everybody in the house.
‘I suppose you think I am a sentimental jackass—’
Hallick shook his head.
‘Being in love isn’t a crime, Mr Goodman,’ he said quietly.
Goodman pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it isn’t—imbecility isn’t a crime, anyway,’ he said.
He was going in the direction whence Mary would come, when Hallick stopped him, and obediently the favoured guest shuffled out of another door.
Mary had been waiting for the summons, and her heart was cold within her as she followed the detective to Hallick’s presence. She had not seen him before and was agreeably surprised. She had expected a hectoring, bullying police officer and found a very stout and genial man with a kindly face. He was talking to Cotton when she came in, and for a moment he took no notice of her.
‘You’re sure you’ve no idea how this man got in last night?’
‘No, sir,’ said Cotton.
‘No window was forced, the door was locked and bolted, wasn’t it?’
Cotton nodded.
‘I never let him in,’ he said.
Hallick’s eyelids narrowed.
‘Twice you’ve said that. When I arrived this morning you volunteered the same statement. You also said you passed Mr Fane’s room on your way in, that the door was open and the room was empty.’
Cotton nodded.
‘You also said that the man who rung up the police and gave the name of Cotton was not you.’
‘That’s true, sir.’
It was then that the detective became aware of the girl’s presence and signalled Cotton to leave the room.
‘Now, Miss Redmayne; you didn’t see this man, I suppose?’
‘Only for a moment.’
‘Did you recognise him?’
She nodded.
Hallick looked down at the floor, considering.
‘Where do you sleep?’ he asked.
‘In the room above this hall.’
She was aware that the second detective was writing down all that she said.
‘You must have heard something—the sound of a struggle—a cry?’ suggested Hallick, and, when she shook her head: ‘Do you know what time the murder occurred?’
‘My father said it was about one o’clock.’
‘You were in bed? Where was your father—anywhere near this room?’
‘No.’ Her tone was emphatic.
‘Why are you so sure?’ he asked keenly.
‘Because when I heard the door close—’
‘Which door?’ quickly.
He confused her for a moment.
‘This door.’ She pointed to the entrance of the lounge. ‘Then I looked over the landing and saw my father in the passage.’
‘Yes. He was coming from or going to this room. How was he dressed?’
‘I didn’t see him,’ she answered desperately. ‘There was no light in the passage. I’m not even certain that it was his door.’
Hallick smiled.
‘Don’t get rattled, Miss Redmayne. This man, Connor, was a well-known burglar; it is quite possible that your father might have tackled him and accidentally killed him. I mean, such a thing might occur.’
Mary shook her head.
‘You don’t think that happened? You don’t think that he got frightened when he found the man was dead, and said he knew nothing about it?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘You heard nothing last night of a terrifying or startling nature?’
She did not answer.
‘Have you ever seen anything at Monkshall?’
‘It was all imagination,’ she said in a low voice; ‘but once I thought I saw a figure on the lawn—a figure in the robes of a monk.’
‘A ghost, in fact?’ he smiled, and she nodded.
‘You see, I’m rather nervous,’ she went on. ‘I imagine things. Sometimes when I’ve been in my room I’ve heard the sound of feet moving here—and the sound of an organ.’
‘Does the noise seem distinct?’
‘Yes. You see, the floor isn’t very thick.’
‘I see,’ he said dryly. ‘And yet you heard no struggle last night? Come, come, Miss Redmayne, try to remember.’
She was in a panic.
‘I don’t remember anything—I heard nothing.’
‘Nothing at all?’ He was gently insistent. ‘I mean, the man must have fallen with a terrific thud. It would have wakened you if you had been asleep—and you weren’t asleep. Come now, Miss Redmayne. I think you’re making a mystery of nothing. You were terribly frightened by this monk you saw, or thought you saw, and your nerves were all jagged. You heard a sound and opened your door, and your father’s voice said “It’s all right”, or something like that. Isn’t that what occurred?’
He was so kindly that she was deceived. ‘Yes.’
‘He was in his dressing-gown, I suppose—ready for bed?’
‘Yes,’ she said again.
He nodded.
‘Just now you told me you didn’t see him—that there was no light in the passage!’
She sprang up and confronted him.
‘You’re trying to catch me out. I won’t answer you. I heard nothing, I saw nothing. My father was never in this room—it wasn’t his voice—’
‘My voice, old son!’
Hallick turned quickly. A smiling man was standing in the doorway.
‘How d’ye do? My name’s Fane—Ferdie Fane. How’s the late departed?’
‘Fane, eh?’ Hallick was interested in this lank man.
‘My voice, old son,’ said Fane again. ‘Indeed!’ Then the detective did an unaccountable thing. He broke off the cross-examination, and, beckoning his assistant, the two men went out of the room together.