“He's got the biggest motive of the lot, I know that. Here, miss, you take these buns back where they came from, which was the dustbin, I should think, judging from the look of them, and bring me a nice plate of bread-and-butter, there's a good girl.”
“Sauce!” said the waitress, tossing her head.
The Sergeant winked at her, and turned back to Hannasyde. “Smart-looking girl, that. Well, now, I've got something for you. I went round to this studio, according to your instructions, and got talking to the skivvy there. Regular old cough-drop she is, too. Name of Murgatroyd. Used to be personal maid to the second Mrs Vereker before she was married, and after. Stopped on after Mrs Vereker died, and acted nurse to the kids. You get the layout, Super. She's the devoted family retainer all right. Well, I did what I could, jollying her along, but she was close as an oyster - Thank you, miss.” He waited until the waitress had removed herself out of earshot, and then continued: “Close as an oyster. Suspicious and wary. But one thing she did say and stuck to.”
“What was it?”
The Sergeant folded one the slices of bread-and butter in half, and put it into his mouth. When it was possible for him to speak intelligibly, he said: “She told me that whatever anyone might say to the contrary she was ready to get up and swear her Master Kenneth was safely tucked up in his bed and sleeping like a lamb at midnight on Saturday.”
“Did she really say that?” inquired Hannasyde, mildly curious.
“I won't swear to it those were her exact words,” replied the Sergeant, unabashed. “I may have made it a bit more poetic. But that was the gist of it. Now you tell me that the said Master Kenneth admits he was rampaging round town up till four o'clock. Bit of a departmental muddle, Super. Looks like they haven't got together enough over the question of alibis.”
“I don't make much of it,” said Hannasyde. 'It's obvious that young Vereker's position is very weak, and if this Murgatroyd is a devoted old servant, that's just the sort of gallant attempt to protect him you'd expect her to make.”
“I'm not saying it isn't, Super. I'll go so far as to say it is. But what I'll say is that the old girl's scared. She's afraid young Vereker did it. If she was plumb-sure he didn't she'd have bitten my head off for daring to come round suspecting her darling boy.”
Hannasyde put down his cup. “Look here, did she talk like that or not?”