With an evident ill grace Colonel Domlio rang the bell. French, sensing his opposition, had become keenly alert. It seemed to him that he might be on the brink of learning something important. But instantly he decided that he would postpone serious examination of the staff until he had them to himself.
The butler, Burt, answered the bell.
“This gentleman is Mr. French, Burt,” said the colonel. “He wants to ask you some questions. You might answer him so far as you can.”
“It was only to know whether you heard or saw anything unusual on the night of the deaths of Mr. Berlyn and Mr. Pyke,” French explained.
The man denied with what French thought was over-earnestness. Moreover, he looked acutely uneasy, even scared. French felt a sudden thrill, but he merely nodded and said:
“You didn’t see any traces on the moor the next day?”
“Nothing whatever, sir,” said the man with evident relief.
“Thank you. That’s all I want. Now, Colonel, if I could see the others to put the same questions I should be finished.”
Mrs. Burt and the two outside men were produced in turn, and each denied having heard or seen anything unusual. Coombe and Mee, the chauffeur and gardener, were interested, but evidently nothing more. But Mrs. Burt reproduced all the signs of uneasiness which her husband had exhibited, only in an intensified degree. She was obviously terrified when French questioned her, and her relief when her ordeal was over was unmistakable.
But French apparently saw nothing amiss and when the quartet had gone he thanked Colonel Domlio for his assistance and apologised for the trouble he had given. And in the colonel’s manner he noticed the same repressed evidences of relief. That something had taken place that night of which the master of the house and the two domestics were aware, French was positive.