The Case of the Late Pig

I was still working it out when Poppy laid her hand upon my arm. I turned to find her plump face flushed and anxious.

'Albert,' she murmured confidentially, 'I can't talk now because Kingston's just coming down, but there's something I want to say to you. Ssh! There he is.'

She turned back to the bar and began to bustle among the glasses. Kingston came in, cheerfully superior.

'She's all right now,' he said, grinning at Poppy, 'or will be in a day or two. Don't let her eat too much grease. Like to come up and see her, Campion?'

Poppy raised her eyebrows at him, and he explained. She began to laugh at us.

'The child hasn't the strength, and she hasn't the wits,' she said. 'And if she had she wouldn't do it. She's a good little girl, our Flossie. Flossie, indeed! I've never heard of anything so futile.'

Kingston was very insistent, however, and his anxiety to keep in the picture might easily have been exasperating if there had been anything pressing to be done. As it was, I went upstairs with him through a maze of corridors and unexpected staircases until we found the little attic under the roof at the far end of the house from the box-room.

As soon as I met Flossie I saw they were right. Her little yellow face was pathetic and disinterested. Kingston asked her questions — had she heard anything? Had she been out of the room? Had anything unusual happened on the day before? — and she answered 'No, sir' to them all with the weary patience of the really ill.

We left her and went along to have another look at the box-room. It was just as I had left it. Kingston was tremendously knowing and important. Evidently he fancied himself in his new rôle.

'There's a scratch there,' he said, pointing to the one I had already noticed. 'Does that tell you anything, Campion? It looks fairly new, doesn't it? How about getting some finger-prints?'

I looked at the rough cast sadly, and led him away.

We got rid of him at last. He offered to drive me down to the Police Station, but I refused, explaining that Leo was coming to pick me up. I caught sight of Poppy as I spoke, and saw her turn colour.

We stood in the window together and watched Kingston's car disappear down the drive. She sighed.

'They're bored,' she said. 'They're all bored, poor darlings. He's a nice boy, he doesn't want to be a ghoul; but it'll all give him something to talk about when he goes to see his patients. It must be terrible going to see people every day if you haven't got anything to tell them, don't you think?'

'Yes,' I said dubiously. 'I suppose it is. What have you got to tell me, by the way?'

She did not answer me immediately, but the colour came into her face, and she looked like some large guilty baby faced with confession.

'I had a few words with Leo yesterday,' she began at last. 'Not that I mind, of course, although it does do to keep in with one's clients, and — er — friends. I can see that I've annoyed him. I told him a silly lie, and then I didn't like to explain. You can see that happening, can't you?'

She paused and eyed me.

'I can,' I said cheerfully.

'The stupid thing is that it doesn't matter,' she went on, playing with her rings. 'People down here are terrible snobs, Albert.

I didn't quite follow her, and I said so.

'Oh well, it's Hayhoe,' she said explosively. 'An awful little bounder, Albert, but probably quite human, and he's got to live, like anybody else, hasn't he?'

'Wait a minute,' I said. 'I've got to get this straight. Is Hayhoe a friend of yours?'

'Oh no, not a friend.' She brushed the term away irritably. 'But he came to me for help last week.'

I was inspired.

'Did he borrow money?'

'Oh no!' She was shocked. 'He was very hard up, poor man. He told me his story, and I may have lent him a pound or two. But you wouldn't say he'd borrowed money. You see, Ducky, it was like this — he came to me about two days after that wretched man Harris settled here. I was just beginning to find out the sort of man Harris was when this poor old chap came along, asked to see me privately, and told me the whole thing. Harris was his nephew, you see, and there'd been a lot of jiggery-pokery going on, and somehow — I forget quite how — this little tick Harris had done the old man out of all his money. He wanted to see him on the quiet to get it back, and he wanted me to help him. I let him into Harris's room — '

'You what?' I said aghast.

'Well, I showed him where it was, and let him go upstairs. That was some days ago. There was an awful row, and poor little Hayhoe came running out with a flea in his ear, since when he's never been near the place — until last night, when Leo happened to see him. I didn't want to explain the whole story — because there's no point in that man getting into a row when he wasn't even near the house yesterday morning — and so I was short with Leo, and he is cross. Put it all straight for me, Albert. Have another drink.'

I refused the one and promised to do my best with the other.