The chief constable said crisply: "In a murder case, Mr. Lee, then questions must be asked-and answered."

"I have answered them! I had finished telephoning and was-er-debating a further call."

"You were in this room when the alarm was raised upstairs?"

"I was-yes, I was."

Johnson turned to Magdalene.

"I think, Mrs. Lee," he said, "that you stated that you were telephoning when the alarm broke out, and that at the time you were alone in this room?"

Magdalene was flustered. She caught her breath, looked sideways at George-at Sugden, then appealingly at Colonel Johnson. She said: "Oh, really-I don't know-I don't remember what I said . . . I was so upset. . . ."

Sugden said: "We've got it all written down, you know."

She turned her batteries on him-wide appealing eyes-quivering mouth. But she met in return the rigid aloofness of a man of stern respectability who didn't approve of her type.

She said uncertainly: "I-I-of course I telephoned. I can't be quite sure just when-"

She stopped.

George said: "What's all this? Where did you telephone from? Not in here."

Superintendent Sugden said: "I suggest, Mrs. Lee, that you didn't telephone at all. In that case, where were you and what were you doing?"

Magdalene glanced distractedly about her and burst into tears. She sobbed: "George, don't let them bully me! You know that if anyone frightens me and thunders questions at me, I can't remember anything at all! I-I don't know what I was saying that night-it was all so horrible-and I was so upset-and they're being so beastly to me. . . ."

She jumped up and ran sobbing out of the room.

Springing up, George Lee blustered: "What d'you mean? I won't have my wife bullied and frightened out of her life! She's very sensitive. It's disgraceful! I shall have a question asked in the House about the disgraceful bullying methods of the police. It's absolutely disgraceful!"

He strode out of the room and banged the door.

Superintendent Sugden threw his head back and laughed.

He said: "We've got them going properly! Now we'll see!"

Johnson said frowning: "Extraordinary business! Looks fishy. We must get a further statement out of her."

Sugden said easily: "Oh! She'll be back in a minute or two. When she's decided what to say. Eh, Mr. Poirot?"

Poirot, who had been sitting in a dream, gave a start.

"Pardon!"

"I said she'll be back."

"Probably-yes, possibly-oh, yes!"

Sugden said, staring at him: "What's the matter, Mr. Poirot? Seen a ghost?"

Poirot said slowly: "You know-I am not sure that I have not done just exactly that."

Colonel Johnson said impatiently: "Well, Sugden, anything else?"

Sugden said: "I've been trying to check up on the order in which everyone arrived on the scene of the murder. It's quite clear what must have happened. After the murder when the victim's dying cry had given the alarm, the murderer slipped out, locked the door with pliers, or something of that kind, and a moment or two later became one of the people hurrying to the scene of the crime. Unfortunately it's not easy to check exactly whom everyone has seen because people's memories aren't very accurate on a point like that. Tressilian says he saw Harry and Alfred Lee cross the hall from the dining room and race upstairs. That lets them out, but we don't suspect them anyway. As far as I can make out, Miss Estravados got there late-one of the last. The general idea seems to be that Farr, Mrs. George, and Mrs. David were the first. Each of those three says one of the others was just ahead of them. That's what's so difficult, you can't distinguish between a deliberate lie and a genuine haziness of recollection. Everybody ran there-that's agreed, but in what order they ran isn't so easy to get at."

Poirot said slowly: "You think that important?"

Sugden said: "It's the time element. The time, remember, was incredibly short."

Poirot said: "I agree with you that the time element is very important in this case."

Sugden went on: "What makes it more difficult is that there are two staircases. There's the main one in the hall here about equidistant from the dining room and the drawing room doors. Then there's one the other end of the house. Stephen Farr came up by the latter. Miss Estravados came along the upper landing from that end of the house (her room is right the other end). The others say they went up by this one."

Poirot said: "It is a confusion, yes."

The door opened and Magdalene came quickly in. She was breathing fast and had a bright spot of colour in each cheek. She came up to the table and said quietly: "My husband thinks I'm lying down. I slipped out of my room quietly. Colonel Johnson," she appealed to him with wide, distressed eyes, "if I tell you the truth you will keep quiet about it, won't you? I mean you don't have to make everything public?"

Colonel Johnson said: "You mean, I take it, Mrs. Lee, something that has no connection with the crime?"

"Yes, no connection at all. Just something in my-my private life."

The chief constable said: "You'd better make a clean breast of it, Mrs. Lee, and leave us to judge."

Magdalene said, her eyes swimming: "Yes, I will trust you. I know I can. You look so kind. You see, it's like this. There's somebody-" She stopped.

"Yes, Mrs. Lee?"

"I wanted to telephone to somebody last night-a man-a friend of mine, and I didn't want George to know about it. I know it was very wrong of me-but well, it was like that. So I went to telephone after dinner when I thought George would be safely in the dining room. But when I got here I heard him telephoning, so I waited."

"Where did you wait, madame?" asked Poirot.

"There's a place for coats and things behind the stairs. It's dark there. I slipped back there, where I could see George come out from this room. But he didn't come out, and then all the noise happened and Mr. Lee screamed, and I ran upstairs."

"So your husband did not leave this room until the moment of the murder?"

"No."

The chief constable said: "And you yourself from nine o'clock to nine fifteen were waiting in the recess behind the stairs?"

"Yes, but I couldn't say so, you see! They'd want to know what I was doing there. It's been very, very awkward for me, you do see that, don't you?"

Johnson said dryly: "It was certainly awkward."

She smiled at him sweetly.

"I'm so relieved to have told you the truth. And you won't tell my husband, will you? No, I'm sure you won't! I can trust you, all of you."

She included them all in her final pleading look, then she slipped quickly out of the room.

Colonel Johnson drew a deep breath.

"Well," he said. "It might be like that! It's a perfectly plausible story. On the other hand-"

"It might not," finished Sugden. "That's just it. We don't know."

III.

Lydia Lee stood by the far window of the drawing room looking out. Her figure was half hidden by the heavy window curtains. A sound in the room made her turn with a start to see Hercule Poirot standing by the door.

She said: "You startled me, M. Poirot."

"I apologize, madame. I walk softly."

She said: "I thought it was Horbury."

Hercule Poirot nodded.

"It is true, he steps softly, that one-like a cat-or a thief."

He paused a minute, watching her.

Her face showed nothing, but she made a slight grimace of distate as she said: "I have never cared for that man. I shall be glad to get rid of him."

"I think you will be wise to do so, madame."

She looked at him quickly. She said: "What do you mean? Do you know anything against him?"

Poirot said: "He is a man who collects secrets-and uses them to his advantage."

She said sharply: "Do you think he knows anything-about the murder?"

Poirot shrugged his shoulders. He said: "He has quiet feet and long ears. He may have overheard something that he is keeping to himself."

Lydia said clearly: "Do you mean that he may try to blackmail one of us?"

"It is within the bounds of possibility. But that is not what I came here to say."

"What did you come to say?"

Poirot said slowly: "I have been talking with M. Alfred Lee. He has made me a proposition, and I wished to discuss it with you before accepting or declining it. But I was so struck by the picture you made-the charming pattern of your jumper against the deep red of the curtains, that I paused to admire."

Lydia said sharply: "Really, M. Poirot, must we waste time in compliments?"

"I beg your pardon, madame. So few English ladies understand la toilette. The dress you were wearing the first night I saw you, its bold but simple pattern, it had grace-distinction."

Lydia said impatiently: "What was it you wanted to see me about?"

Poirot became grave.

"Just this, madame. Your husband, he wishes me to take up the investigation very seriously. He demands that I stay here, in the house, and do my utmost to get to the bottom of the matter."

Lydia said sharply: "Well?"

Poirot said slowly: "I should not wish to accept an invitation that was not endorsed by the lady of the house."

She said coldly: "Naturally I endorse my husband's invitation."

"Yes, madame, but I need more than that. Do you really want me to come here?"

"Why not?"

"Let us be more frank. What I ask you is this: do you want the truth to come out, or not?"

"Naturally."

Poirot sighed.

"Must you return me these conventional replies?"

Lydia said: "I am a conventional woman."

Then she bit her lip, hesitated, and said: "Perhaps it is better to speak frankly. Of course I understand you! The position is not a pleasant one. My father-in-law has been brutally murdered, and unless a case can be made out against the most likely suspect-Horbury-for robbery and murder-and it seems that it cannot-then it comes to this-one of his own family killed him. To bring that person to justice will mean bringing shame and disgrace on us all . . . If I am to speak honestly I must say that I do not want this to happen."

Poirot said: "You are content for the murderer to escape unpunished?"

"There are probably several undiscovered murderers at large in the world."

"That, I grant you."

"Does one more matter, then?"

Poirot said: "And what about the other members of the family? The innocent?"

She stared.

"What about them?"

"Do you realize that if it turns out as you hope, no one will ever know. The shadow will remain on all alike. . . ."

She said uncertainly: "I hadn't thought of that."

Poirot said: "No one will ever know who the guilty person is. . . ."

He added softly: "Unless you already know, madame?"

She cried out: "You have no business to say that! It's not true! Oh! If only it could be a stranger-not a member of the family."