The Sergeant hesitated. “I wouldn't say that exactly, but on the other hand I wouldn't say that there was anything definite, if you take my meaning. They were both on the Council, and I believe they had a few differences of opinion.”
“Tell me something else!” invited Hemingway. “Do you know of anyone who was on good terms with this character?”
The Sergeant grinned. Colonel Scales said: “Yes, you've hit the mark, Chief Inspector. He was a nasty piece of work, and no one could stand him! I don't mind telling you that I couldn't myself. He was one of those men who not only want to have a finger in every pie, but who are never content until they're top-dog. Sort of pocket-Hitler! A bumptious little upstart who wanted to be the kingpin in the district, and would go to any lengths to muscle in on things that were no concern of his, and which you wouldn't have thought he'd want to be bothered with! He even got himself on to the committee for the charity ball Lady Binchester organised, a year ago. I don't know how he managed that, but I've no doubt he thought it would give him a foothold in that set. More fool he!”
“It sounds to me, sir, as though this place where he lived can't have been the only place where he made enemies. We've gone into all the Thornden people. What about the people he must have rubbed up against here, where he had his business?”
“We've thought of that, naturally, but setting aside the fact that Carsethorn hasn't heard of any Bellingham-man being seen in Thornden at the time—of course, it's possible to get to Fox House across the common, I know—I don't know that he had any serious quarrel with anyone. There was a good deal of jealousy, a lot of people disliked him, we should most of us have been glad to have seen him leave Bellingham. He was the best-hated man in the district, but you don't murder a man you just don't like: there has to be some motive! And that, Chief Inspector, is why I thought it wisest to call in Scotland Yard at once: no one has anything that begins to look like a sufficient motive!”
“There's the Pole that seems to have been making passes at the niece, isn't there?” suggested Hemingway mildly. “What's more, there's the young lady herself. If she inherits his money, I should call that a pretty good motive.”
“You'd better go and make Miss Warrenby's acquaintance!” recommended the Colonel, with a bark of laughter.
“I will, sir,” said the Chief Inspector.
Chapter Six
“The trouble with you, Horace, is that there's no pleasing you,” said the Chief Inspector, some little time later. “I bring you down, in the middle of the summer, to as nice a part of the country as you could wish for, set you up in a pub which, as far as I can see, never got around to reading the Rationing Orders, and all you do is to sit there looking as though you'd been dragged to one of the Distressed Areas. I'll trouble you for the butter, my lad!”