Spider's Web

Hugo looked shocked. "Clarissa? Good Lord, no! Nice girl, Clarissa. Got a lot of sense. She wouldn't look twice at a fellow like that."

The Inspector paused again, and then said finally, "So you can't help us."

"Sorry. But there it is," replied Hugo with an attempt at nonchalance.

Making one last effort to extract at least a crumb of information from Hugo, the Inspector asked, "Had you really no idea that the body was in that recess?"

"Of course not," replied Hugo, now sounding offended.

"Thank you, sir," said the Inspector, turning away from him.

"What?" queried Hugo vaguely.

"That's all, thank you, sir," the Inspector repeated, going to the desk and picking up a huge red book that lay on it.

Hugo rose, picked up his spectacle case, and was about to go across to the library door when the Constable got up and barred his way. Hugo then turned towards the French windows, but the Constable said, "This way, Mr. Birch, please," and went to the hall door. Giving up, Hugo went out by the hall door, which the Constable closed after him.

The Inspector carried his huge red book over to the bridge table and sat consulting it, as the Constable commented satirically, "Mr. Birch was a mine of information, wasn't he? Mind you, it's not very nice for a J. P. to be mixed up in a murder."

The Inspector began to read aloud. "'Delahaye, Sir Rowland Edward Mark, KCB, MVO – '"

"What have you got there?" the Constable asked. He peered over the Inspector's shoulder. "Oh, Who's Who."

The Inspector went on reading. "'Educated Eton... Trinity College...' Um! 'Attached Foreign Office-second Secretary... Madrid... Plenipotentiary.'"

"Ooh!" the Constable exclaimed at this last word.

The Inspector gave him an exasperated look and continued, "'Constantinople Foreign Office – special commission rendered; Clubs: Boodles, Whites.'"

"Do you want him next, sir?" the Constable asked.

The Inspector thought for a moment. "No," he decided. "He's the most interesting of the lot, so I'll leave him till the last. Let's have young Warrender in now."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE CONSTABLE went back to the library door and called, "Mr. Warrender, please."

Jeremy came in, attempting rather unsuccessfully to look completely at his ease. The Constable closed the library door and resumed his seat at the table, while the Inspector half-rose and pulled out a chair from the bridge table for Jeremy.

"Sit down," he ordered somewhat brusquely as he resumed his seat. Jeremy sat, and the Inspector asked formally, "Your name?"

"Jeremy Warrender."

"Address?"

"Three hundred and forty Broad Street, and thirty-four Grosvenor Square," Jeremy told him, trying to sound nonchalant. He glanced across at the Constable, who was writing all this down, and added, "Country address, Hepplestone, Wiltshire."

"That sounds as though you're a gentleman of independent means," the Inspector commented.

"I'm afraid not," Jeremy admitted with a smile. "I'm private secretary to Sir Kenneth Thomson, the Chairman of Saxon-Arabian Oil... Those are his addresses."

The Inspector nodded. "I see," he remarked. "How long have you been with him?"

"About a year. Before that, I was personal assistant to Mr. Scott Agius for four years."

"Ah, yes," said the Inspector. "He's that wealthy businessman in the City, isn't he?" He thought for a moment before going on to ask, "Did you know this man, Oliver Costello?"

"No, I'd never heard of him till tonight," Jeremy told him.

"And you didn't see him when he came to the house earlier this evening?" the Inspector continued.

"No," Jeremy replied. "I'd gone over to the golf club with the others. We were dining there, you see. It was the servants' night out, and Mr. Birch had asked us to dine with him at the club."

The Inspector nodded his head. After a pause, he asked, "Was Mrs. Hailsham-Brown invited, too?"

"No, she wasn't," said Jeremy.

The Inspector raised his eyebrows, and Jeremy hurried on. "That is," he explained, "she could have come if she'd liked."

"Do you mean," the Inspector asked him, "that she was asked, then? And she refused?"

"No, no," Jeremy replied hurriedly, sounding as though he was getting rattled. "What I mean is – well, Hailsham-Brown is usually quite tired by the time he gets down here, and Clarissa said they'd just have a scratch meal here, as usual."

The Inspector looked confused. "Let me get this clear," he said rather snappily. "Mrs. Hailsham-Brown expected her husband to dine here? She didn't expect him to go out again as soon as he came in?"

Jeremy was now quite definitely flustered. "I – er – well – er – really, I don't know," he stammered. "No – now that you mention it, I believe she did say he was going to be out this evening."

The Inspector rose and took a few paces away from Jeremy. "It seems odd, then," he observed, "that Mrs. Hailsham-Brown should not have come out to the club with the three of you, instead of remaining here to dine all by herself."