The Madman's Room

Paula and he had left the room at about five past nine. They’d extinguished the lamp and there had been no one in the room when they’d left. Was the carpet already damp? No. But they weren’t ready to swear to it. When they’d gone back down to the salon, they’d found Sarah there alone. Mr. Hilton had gone up to bed. Sarah, Francis and Paula had talked for a few minutes, then Paula had gone into the kitchen to prepare some coffee and Francis had headed for the game room, leaving Sarah alone in the salon again between twenty past and half past nine. For half an hour after that, Francis returned and the three of them didn’t leave each other’s sight, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. At ten o’clock, Sarah stood up. She didn’t tell them she was going up to the study, but they suspected it because she was in the habit of going there at that hour when there weren’t any guests. Francis went back to the game room and Paula stayed in the salon until the arrival of Cathy Restarick ten minutes later.

Hurst made copious notes of their depositions, then thanked the young couple and ask them to call Mr. and Mrs. Hilton.

Only Howard Hilton turned up:

‘My wife isn’t feeling well. She would be very obliged if you would question her another day.’

‘Of course,’ replied Hurst, full of indulgence for the poor man who’d just lost his daughter and was trying to put a good face on it.

‘Thank you, Inspector. It’s a grave misfortune for us… and to think she was about to get married….’

‘Had the date been set?’ asked Hurst, looking at Twist out of the corner of his eye.

‘No, she’d only just announced it, or rather talked to my wife about it, no later than last week. Dr. Meadows and she hadn’t fixed the date, but it would have had to be before Christmas anyway, because they planned to spend their honeymoon in Venice and then extend it through other trips to India, South America…’ He swallowed hard and then recovered. ‘Her luck ran out.’

After a silence, Hurst asked:

‘Do you know if the young couple planned to stay in Hatton Manor after that?’

Howard Hilton lit a cigarette and Dr. Twist noticed his hand was shaking.

‘I… I don’t think so. They were thinking of selling the property, which couldn’t be done without Brian’s consent… and I don’t think she’d asked him. To be truthful, my wife and I didn’t like the idea. It’s a very pleasant spot and very quiet… but that’s of no importance now.’

Hurst nodded then leant towards him:

‘It seems that your daughter’s nerves were on edge recently. Do you know any particular reason for it?’

Hilton gazed at the window and took his time to answer:

‘Sarah was always a very excitable child. She was very upset by the death of her husband, much more than she showed. There was a period of calm at the beginning of the year, so to speak. … then she fell for Meadows. A happy idyll on the surface, but hardly beneficial for her nerves. I don’t want to blame Michael, but it’s a fact that after they started seeing each other, things became more intense — at least as far as she was concerned. But to answer your question, during the last two weeks she was at the end of her tether. She lost her temper about nothing and became scared if anyone so much as looked at her…As to why that was, I couldn’t tell you.’

‘One last question, Mr. Hilton. Have you any idea where to find Brian Thorne?’

‘No idea whatsoever.’

‘And what do you think of his disappearance?’

‘Strange — although Sarah’s death did affect him profoundly. He more or less predicted it.’

‘We know.’

‘Well, if you want my advice, I think he felt himself responsible in a way and that caused him to lose his head… as though he’d just realised his power, and the danger it represented.’

‘You say “power,” so do you believe in his gifts as a clairvoyant?’

‘I don’t think there can be any doubt about it.’

20

In many ways, Dr. Alan Twist was an enigma to the Scotland Yard inspector. Perhaps the biggest mystery was his ability to tuck away gargantuan quantities of food in that thin frame, twice as much as Hurst — himself no slouch in that department. Where did he put it all?

He wasn’t the only one to ask himself the question. Hector Redfern watched in astonishment as the criminologist ordered his fifth lamb cutlet. It was seven o’clock and the three men were dining in the Black Horse, where Hurst and Twist were staying. An hour earlier they had questioned Dr. Meadows, whose house was on the edge of the village.