The Body in the Library

‘Sweet, polite person you are!’

‘You seem to have followed me down all right!’

‘I wanted to tell you what I thought of you!’

‘If you think you can boss me, my girl, you’re wrong!’

‘And if you think you can order me about, you can think again!’

They glared at each other.

It was at this moment that Colonel Melchett seized his opportunity, and cleared his throat loudly.

Basil Blake swung round on him.

‘Hallo, I forgot you were here. About time you took yourself off, isn’t it? Let me introduce you—Dinah Lee—Colonel Blimp of the County Police. And now, Colonel, that you’ve seen my blonde is alive and in good condition, perhaps you’ll get on with the good work concerning old Bantry’s little bit of fluff. Good-morning!’

Colonel Melchett said:

‘I advise you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young man, or you’ll let yourself in for trouble,’ and stumped out, his face red and wrathful.

CHAPTER 3 (#u2cce7421-31e6-5e80-8586-e223aa9ca429)

In his office at Much Benham, Colonel Melchett received and scrutinized the reports of his subordinates:

‘… so it all seems clear enough, sir,’ Inspector Slack was concluding: ‘Mrs Bantry sat in the library after dinner and went to bed just before ten. She turned out the lights when she left the room and, presumably, no one entered the room afterwards. The servants went to bed at half-past ten and Lorrimer, after putting the drinks in the hall, went to bed at a quarter to eleven. Nobody heard anything out of the usual except the third housemaid, and she heard too much! Groans and a blood-curdling yell and sinister footsteps and I don’t know what. The second housemaid who shares a room with her says the other girl slept all night through without a sound. It’s those ones that make up things that cause us all the trouble.’

‘What about the forced window?’

‘Amateur job, Simmons says; done with a common chisel—ordinary pattern—wouldn’t have made much noise. Ought to be a chisel about the house but nobody can find it. Still, that’s common enough where tools are concerned.’

‘Think any of the servants know anything?’

Rather unwillingly Inspector Slack replied:

‘No, sir, I don’t think they do. They all seemed very shocked and upset. I had my suspicions of Lorrimer—reticent, he was, if you know what I mean—but I don’t think there’s anything in it.’

Melchett nodded. He attached no importance to Lorrimer’s reticence. The energetic Inspector Slack often produced that effect on people he interrogated.

The door opened and Dr Haydock came in.

‘Thought I’d look in and give you the rough gist of things.’

‘Yes, yes, glad to see you. Well?’

‘Nothing much. Just what you’d think. Death was due to strangulation. Satin waistband of her own dress, which was passed round the neck and crossed at the back. Quite easy and simple to do. Wouldn’t have needed great strength—that is, if the girl were taken by surprise. There are no signs of a struggle.’

‘What about time of death?’

‘Say, between ten o’clock and midnight.’

‘You can’t get nearer than that?’

Haydock shook his head with a slight grin.

‘I won’t risk my professional reputation. Not earlier than ten and not later than midnight.’

‘And your own fancy inclines to which time?’

‘Depends. There was a fire in the grate—the room was warm—all that would delay rigor and cadaveric stiffening.’

‘Anything more you can say about her?’

‘Nothing much. She was young—about seventeen or eighteen, I should say. Rather immature in some ways but well developed muscularly. Quite a healthy specimen. She was virgo intacta, by the way.’

And with a nod of his head the doctor left the room.

Melchett said to the Inspector:

‘You’re quite sure she’d never been seen before at Gossington?’

‘The servants are positive of that. Quite indignant about it. They’d have remembered if they’d ever seen her about in the neighbourhood, they say.’

‘I expect they would,’ said Melchett. ‘Anyone of that type sticks out a mile round here. Look at that young woman of Blake’s.’

‘Pity it wasn’t her,’ said Slack; ‘then we should be able to get on a bit.’

‘It seems to me this girl must have come down from London,’ said the Chief Constable thoughtfully. ‘Don’t believe there will be any local leads. In that case, I suppose, we should do well to call in the Yard. It’s a case for them, not for us.’

‘Something must have brought her down here, though,’ said Slack. He added tentatively: ‘Seems to me, Colonel and Mrs Bantry must know something—of course, I know they’re friends of yours, sir—’

Colonel Melchett treated him to a cold stare. He said stiffly:

‘You may rest assured that I’m taking every possibility into account. Every possibility.’ He went on: ‘You’ve looked through the list of persons reported missing, I suppose?’

Slack nodded. He produced a typed sheet.

‘Got ’em here. Mrs Saunders, reported missing a week ago, dark-haired, blue-eyed, thirty-six. ’Tisn’t her—and, anyway, everyone knows except her husband that she’s gone off with a fellow from Leeds—commercial. Mrs Barnard—she’s sixty-five. Pamela Reeves, sixteen, missing from her home last night, had attended Girl Guide rally, dark-brown hair in pigtail, five feet five—’

Melchett said irritably:

‘Don’t go on reading idiotic details, Slack. This wasn’t a schoolgirl. In my opinion—’

He broke off as the telephone rang. ‘Hallo—yes—yes, Much Benham Police Headquarters—what? Just a minute—’

He listened, and wrote rapidly. Then he spoke again, a new tone in his voice:

‘Ruby Keene, eighteen, occupation professional dancer, five feet four inches, slender, platinum-blonde hair, blue eyes, retroussé nose, believed to be wearing white diamanté evening-dress, silver sandal shoes. Is that right? What? Yes, not a doubt of it, I should say. I’ll send Slack over at once.’