‘ ’Twas the agents—Williamsons—that wrote, said they had an offer from a lady.’
Inspector Narracott frowned. He found this business of letting Sittaford House distinctly odd.
‘Captain Trevelyan and Mrs Willett met, I suppose?’ he asked.
‘Oh! yes. She came to see the house and he took her over it.’
‘And you’re positive they hadn’t met before?’
‘Oh! quite, sir.’
‘Did they—er—’ the Inspector paused, as he tried to frame the question naturally. ‘Did they get on well together? Were they friendly?’
‘The lady was.’ A faint smile crossed Evans’s lips. ‘All over him, as you might say. Admiring the house, and asking him if he’d planned the building of it. Altogether laying it on thick, as you might say.’
‘And the Captain?’
The smile broadened.
‘That sort of gushing lady wasn’t likely to cut any ice with him. Polite he was, but nothing more. And declined her invitations.’
‘Invitations?’
‘Yes, to consider the house as his own any time, and drop in, that’s how she put it—drop in. You don’t drop in to a place when you’re living six miles away.’
‘She seemed anxious to—well—to see something of the Captain?’
Narracott was wondering. Was that the reason for the taking of the house? Was it only a prelude to the making of Captain Trevelyan’s acquaintance? Was that the real game? It would probably not have occurred to her that the Captain would have gone as far as Exhampton to live. She might have calculated on his moving into one of the small bungalows, perhaps sharing Major Burnaby’s.
Evans’s answer was not very helpful.
‘She’s a very hospitable lady, by all accounts. Someone in to lunch or dinner every day.’
Narracott nodded. He could learn no more here. But he determined to seek an interview with this Mrs Willett at an early date. Her abrupt arrival needed looking into.
‘Come on, Pollock, we’ll go upstairs now,’ he said.
They left Evans in the dining-room and proceeded to the upper story.
‘All right, do you think?’ asked the Sergeant in a low voice, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the closed dining-room door.
‘He seems so,’ said the Inspector. ‘But one never knows. He’s no fool, that fellow, whatever else he is.’
‘No, he’s an intelligent sort of chap.’
‘His story seems straightforward enough,’ went on the Inspector. ‘Perfectly clear and above board. Still, as I say, one never knows.’
And with this pronouncement, very typical of his careful and suspicious mind, the Inspector proceeded to search the rooms on the first floor.
There were three bedrooms and a bathroom. Two of the bedrooms were empty and had clearly not been entered for some weeks. The third, Captain Trevelyan’s own room, was in exquisite and apple-pie order. Inspector Narracott moved about in it, opening drawers and cupboards. Everything was in its right place. It was the room of a man almost fanatically tidy and neat in his habits. Narracott finished his inspection and glanced into the adjoining bathroom. Here, too, everything was in order. He gave a last glance at the bed, neatly turned down, with folded pyjamas laid ready.
Then he shook his head.
‘Nothing here,’ he said.
‘No, everything seems in perfect order.’
‘There are the papers in the desk in the study. You had better go through those, Pollock. I’ll tell Evans that he can go. I may call round and see him at his own place later.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘The body can be removed. I shall want to see Warren, by the way. He lives near here, doesn’t he?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘This side of the Three Crowns or the other?’
‘The other, sir.’
‘Then I’ll take the Three Crowns first. Carry on, Sergeant.’
Pollock went to the dining-room to dismiss Evans. The Inspector passed out of the front door and walked rapidly in the direction of the Three Crowns.
Inspector Narracott was not destined to see Major Burnaby until he had had a protracted interview with Mrs Belling—licensed proprietor of the Three Crowns. Mrs Belling was fat and excitable, and so voluble that there was nothing to be done but to listen patiently until such time as the stream of conversation should dry up.
‘And such a night as never was,’ she ended up. ‘And little did any of us think what was happening to the poor dear gentleman. Those nasty tramps—if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a dozen times, I can’t abear those nasty tramps. Do anybody in they would. The Captain had not so much as a dog to protect him. Can’t abear a dog, tramps can’t. Ah, well, you never know what is happening within a stone’s throw.
‘Yes, Mr Narracott,’ she proceeded in answer to his question, ‘the Major is having his breakfast now. You will find him in the coffee-room. And what kind of a night he has passed with no pyjamas or anything, and me a widow woman with nothing to lend him, I can’t say, I am sure. Said it made no matter he did—all upset and queer he was—and no wonder with his best friend murdered. Very nice gentlemen the two of them, though the Captain had the reputation of being close with his money. Ah, well, well, I have always thought it dangerous to live up to Sittaford, miles away from anywhere, and here’s the Captain struck down in Exhampton itself. It’s always what you don’t expect in this life that happens, isn’t it, Mr Narracott?’
The Inspector said that undoubtedly it was. Then he added:
‘Who did you have staying here yesterday, Mrs Belling? Any strangers?’
‘Now let me see. There was Mr Moresby and Mr Jones—commercial gentlemen they are, and there was a young gentleman from London. Nobody else. It stands to reason there wouldn’t be this time of year. Very quiet here in the winter. Oh, and there was another young gentleman—arrived by the last train. Nosey young fellow I call him. He isn’t up yet.’
‘The last train?’ said the Inspector. ‘That gets in at ten o’clock, eh? I don’t think we need trouble ourselves about him. What about the other—the one from London? Did you know him?’
‘Never seen him before in my life. Not a commercial gentleman, oh, no—a cut above that. I can’t remember his name for the moment—but you’ll find it in the register. Left on the first train to Exeter this morning, he did. Six ten. Rather curious. What did he want down here anyway, that’s what I’d like to know.’
‘He didn’t mention his business?’
‘Not a word.’
‘Did he go out at all?’
‘Arrived at lunch time, went out about half past four and came in about twenty past six.’
‘Where did he go when he went out?’
‘I haven’t the remotest idea, sir. May have been just for a stroll like. That was before the snow came, but it wasn’t what you might call a pleasant day for walking.’
‘Went out at half past four and returned about