"Well, sir, it's a bit more than that," said Colwall. "They didn't any of them say as Mr. Herriard had actually had words with Mr. Roydon. It was Miss Herriard he quarrelled with. According to what the butler told me, Mr. Herriard threatened to cut her out of his will, and said he wouldn't have her, nor Mr. Stephen either, to stay again. Of course, there's no denying he was a violenttempered kind of man. No saying whether he meant it or not. If he did, and Mr. Stephen knew that he did, it puts an ugly complexion on the matter, that's what I say."
"Yes, yes!" said the Major, elbowing him out of the discussion. "All very well, but we mustn't exclude the other possibilities. There's Mottisfont, for instance. I consider he will bear looking into. He's been Nat's partner for a great many years, Inspector, and there's plenty of evidence to show that he's been up to something Nat didn't like. The servants say that he was shut up with Nat yesterday, and that there was a quarrel between them. You didn't feel satisfied about him, did you, Colwall?"
"Not altogether, I didn't, sir. Very nervous gentleman, for a man of his years. He didn't speak the truth to me, or at least not all of it, that I am sure of."
"They never do," said Hemingway. "Are there any more suspects?"
"Properly speaking, there aren't," said Colwall. "There's Miss Clare, but she's got an alibi. Besides, there doesn't seem to be any motive. Kind of cousin, she is. Otherwise, there's only the servants. Most of them couldn't have had any reason to murder their master. I don't know that any of them had, except that Mr. Herriard was very rough with his valet, by what the butler told me. Threw things at him when he was out of temper. Quite one of the Old School, as you might say."
Hemingway was unimpressed. "Nothing to stop him giving notice, if he couldn't stand Mr. Herriard," he said. "Unless, of course, he'd got a legacy coming to him?"
"That I don't know, not having seen the will, but I should not think he had. He'd only been with Mr. Herriard a matter of a few months. Mind you, he never said Mr. Herriard was a hard master! It was the butler told me that. Ford spoke very nicely about his master. Spoke up for Mr. Stephen, too."
"What's he like?" demanded Hemingway.
"Wiry little chap, about thirty-five or six, I'd say. Bit scared of me, he was, but he spoke out quite honest and aboveboard, and didn't try to throw suspicion on to anyone - except Mr. Roydon, maybe, though he was only telling me what it was his duty to, after all."
"What about the butler?"