"None at all. Take a look at that blur through the glass!" said Hemingway, handing it to him.
The Inspector took it, focused it, and intently studied the photograph. He then discarded one of the photographs he held in his left hand, and subjected the other to a minute scrutiny. The Chief Inspector, observing which of the photographs had been rejected, drew a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, and offered it to the young man beside him, saying: "There you are! Even a poor Scot can get on to what you fellows miss!"
"We didn't miss it, sir!" protested Thirsk, drawing a cigarette from the packet. "Only it's so indistinct no one could stand up in a Court of Law and swear to it!"
The Inspector raised his eyes from the photographs, both now held fan-shaped in his hand. "You are thinking that there is an impression of Mrs. Haddington's finger, superimposed on Miss Birtley's third and fourth fingers," he said. "I am of Thirsk's opinion: I would not care to swear to it. The whole is verra much blurred."
"Not so blurred but what you saw what I was after," Hemingway pointed out.
"Ma seadh! But it may be that Miss Birtley never had all five fingers on the instrument, and Mrs. Haddington's prints are what we would expect to find."
"Now tell me the story that girl told was all lies, and you'll be happy!" recommended Hemingway. "All right, Thirsk: I've done with 'em for the moment! Take 'em away!" He waited until the young finger-print expert had withdrawn, and then said: "Let's have it, Sandy! True, was it?"
"I am of the opinion that it was true," Grant said. "I would not set great store by anything a lassie in her position would say, because well I know they will lie to one for no reason at all, unless it might be that they do not like the police. But I think Mrs. Haddington looked into the cloakroom before any of the guests arrived, and I am verra sure that she scolded Elsie for taking the wrong towel from the linen cupboard. It is coloured towels that they use in that house, and Elsie took one of the peach ones that go in Miss Haddington's room, instead of one of the apricot ones that are, for the cloakroom." He smiled. "I would not myself know the difference! Be that as it may, Elsie did not see any wire upon the shelf when she changed the towel. So she says, but that might not be true. There is no reason why she should deny that she saw it, if indeed she did, but och! 7-ha eagal oirre! - She is afraid we might charge her with the murder, the silly creature! Yet I do not think that she saw it. Now the other lass - Gwenny Mapperley - is not afraid: she is a bold one, and she would be glad to do her mistress as much harm as she can. She leaves, she tells me, at the month. She talked - och, how she talked! - of all the trouble there has been in the house, and how much to believe I will leave you to judge. There are first the servants, who will not stay with Mrs. Haddington, except the butler and the chef, to whom she pays huge wages: there is then Miss Birtley, whom the servants do not like - but I think that is jealousy, for she is also in Mrs. Haddington's employment, and yet above them. When Mrs. Haddington is rude to her, she gives her some verra sharp back-answers. Indeed, from all I hear she has a hot temper! There was a fine quarrel between them this morning! There has also been trouble with Miss Cynthia - I caught a wee glimpse of her, Chief she is the bonniest lassie you ever did see! - but such tantrums, and such gallivanting about the town! She was not in her bed last night until past three o'clock, but dancing at some place or other with the young lord - Guisborough, is it? It is not decent! But for all Mrs. Haddington has set her heart on making a grand match for the lassie, they say she doesn't favour the lord, but it is Mr.. Harte she has in her eye. But the servants know as well as you or I that it is Miss Birtley and not Miss Haddington that brings that young man to the house. And I think you were maybe right when you thought that Mrs. Haddington had a hold over the Lady Nest, for Gwenny Mapperley has heard Mrs. Haddington speaking to her on the telephone, as though she had only to give her orders and her ladyship would obey them."
"You have been having a good gossip, haven't you?" said Hemingway. "Allowing for a bit of exaggeration, I shouldn't wonder if you'd been given a fair picture, though. Did your little pal, Gwenny, say anything about the late Seaton-Carew?"
"She did, but I think that was mostly spite against her mistress. He was paying great attention to Miss Cynthia, and I don't doubt the lass's mother would not like that; but whether she herself was his mistress or not they none of them know, whatever tales they may tell. She has not been that since she came to live in London."