"No reason why you should," said the Inspector, closing the interview.
Magpie, when summoned to the morning-room, twisted her apron between her fingers, and said in a frightened gasp that she didn't wish to get anyone into trouble. When her alarms had been allayed, and she had been permitted to unburden herself of a highly coloured account of her own reactions to the crime, which included such interesting details as Coming Over Ever So Queer, and suffering equally from palpitations and a total inability to believe that anyone could have murdered the master, she admitted that she had seen Miss Paula and Mr. Roydon go into Miss Paula's room, and had heard the murmur of their voices, the door having been left ajar. Later, when she had come up the backstairs with Miss Paula's dress, which she had gone downstairs to fetch, having had it in the kitchen to dry, because of the stain on it which Miss Paula had asked her to wash out, she had caught a glimpse of Miss Paula outside the master's door, just coming away, as though she had been in to speak to him.
There was nothing more to be got out of her, nor did an interrogation of the rest of the staff produce any other information than that Mrs. Fratton, the cookhousekeeper, had no expectation of ever recovering from the shock; that the kitchen-maid had been having strong hysterics all the evening, her being a seven-months child, and delicate from birth; and that Preston, the headhousemaid, had seen Disaster in her teacup only the day before, and had told the rest of the staff to Mark her Words, there was Trouble coming for Someone.
By the time the Inspector, confronted by a gustily sobbing kitchen-maid, had somewhat hastily informed Mrs. Fratton, who supported and encouraged this damsel by adjurations to give over, and stop acting so silly because the policeman wasn't going to eat her, that he had no more questions to ask, the experts upstairs had finished their various tasks, and Nathaniel's body had been conveyed to the waiting ambulance.
Several finger-prints had been discovered upon the panels and handle of Nathaniel's door, and upon various articles of furniture in the room. Some of these were Nathaniel's own prints, as might have been expected; and although the others would have to be identified there did not seem to be much hope that this line of investigation would prove to be very helpful. The expert was engaged, Sergeant Capel told the Inspector, in taking the finger-prints of all the inmates of the house, a task calling for a great deal of tact and patience, since Valerie Dean was tearfully sure that her mother would object, and the female half of the domestic staff apparently considered the operation to be the first step to the gallows.
Both doctors were agreed that the blow had been dealt with a thin knife, and that death had followed within a few minutes, but no trace of the weapon had so far been found. A careful inspection of the windows had not revealed any sign of the fastenings having been tampered with, and although finger-prints were clearly visible upon the glass it was expected that these would prove to be the valet's, since he freely admitted that he had shut the windows some time before Nathaniel had come upstairs. The door-keys belonging both to the bedroom and the bathroom would be subjected to a more minute inspection, and the ventilator above the bathroom window had already been exhaustively studied, without, however, yielding any clue. The only article of interest which had been discovered in Nathaniel's room was a flat gold cigarette-case, which had been found on the floor, lying half under the armchair beside the fire, out of sight of a cursory survey of the room.
The Inspector looked narrowly at this. It bore a monogram composed of the letters S and H. "Any fingerprints?" he asked.
"No, sir."
"What, none?"
"No, sir. I reckon they got rubbed off."