“After the War, I couldn't settle down to the Stock Exchange again. I did have a shot at it, but what with one thing and another I was thankful to get out. Things aren't what they were.” He struck a match, and began to light his pipe. “That chap—don't remember what his name is—who came to pick up my .22 this morning! I take it you want to test it, and I've no objection to that, but I think it's only fair to say that I don't see how anyone could have taken it without my knowing. I keep it in the room I use as my office, and there's a Yale lock on the door. I don't run to a safe yet, you see, and I often have quite a bit of cash in the house. Wages, and that sort of thing, which I have to put in my desk.”
“Yes, sir, Sergeant Carsethorn did tell me that you said no one could have got hold of your rifle.”
“Well, he asked me several questions about it which he led me to think he had young Ladislas in mind. I expect you know about him: one of these unfortunate expatriates. It's quite true that I lent the rifle to him a little while ago—which I know is a technical misdemeanour—and that I also gave him some cartridges. I should like to make it quite plain that he returned the rifle to me the same evening, and gave me back all the unused cartridges.”
“Been up here worrying you about it, has he?” said Hemingway sympathetically. “Very excitable, these foreigners. That's all right, sir: I shan't arrest him because he borrowed your rifle a few weeks ago.”
“I can't be surprised that he's got the wind up. It seems that that Sergeant put him through it pretty strictly, and there's no doubt there's a lot of prejudice against the Poles.”
“Well, I shan't arrest him for that reason either,” said Hemingway.
“There's apparently a lot of talk going on in Thornden about his having run after Mavis Warrenby,” said Lindale. “That's what's upset him. Says he meant nothing, and I believe him! Nice enough girl—kind-hearted and all that sort of thing—but she's no oil-painting. It's not my affair, but if I were you I wouldn't waste my time on Ladislas.” He bit on his pipe-stem for a moment, and then removed the pipe from his mouth, saying bluntly: “Look here! I don't want to meddle in what's no concern of mine, but I've got a certain amount of fellow-feeling with young Ladislas! I've had some! It's come to my ears that because my wife and I are a damned sight too busy to buzz around doing the social the village gossips are spreading it about that there's something queer about us! Mystery couple! Mystery my foot! The fact that you've turned up today shows me clearly enough that you've heard this tripe. Well, I've just about had it! I was barely acquainted with Warrenby; it doesn't matter two boots to me whether he's alive or dead. If you're looking for a likely suspect, you find out what Plenmeller was up to at twenty-past seven on Saturday!”
“Thank you, sir, I hope to. Can you help me?”
“No, I can't. I was on my own land at that time. I'm not even sure when he left The Cedars, though I have an idea we most of us left in a bunch—the Squire and I by the gate on to the footpath, the others by the front drive. I only know that he's apparently been occupying himself ever since the murder with casting suspicion on most of his neighbours—which may be his idea of humour, or not!”
“On you, sir?”