"Well, that's a comfort, anyway," said Hemingway. "If there's one thing that gets my goat more than another, it's coming up against a man with a lot of silly, noble ideas in his head which don't do any good to anyone. Is that all the evidence we've got, Inspector?"
"Not quite, it isn't. One of the housemaids saw Miss Herriard coming away from her uncle's door in her dressing-gown. A bit after, the valet heard a footstep in the front hall, as he was coming up the backstairs. He just saw Mr. Roydon's door shut. But Mr. Roydon gave a perfectly reasonable explanation for that; and as for Miss Herriard, she made no bones about admitting she'd tried to get into her uncle's room, to have her row out with him. She says she found the door locked, and didn't get any answer to her knock."
"Didn't that strike her as funny?"
"It didn't strike anyone as funny. They all bear one another out that it was just like Mr. Herriard not to answer, if he was in a bad temper."
"It sounds like a nice family," remarked Hemingway. The Inspector permitted himself to smile. "It is that, and no mistake. You'll see!"
"Seems to me I'd better go up there as soon as I can," said Hemingway. "I'd like to have a word with the police surgeon, if you please, sir."
"Yes, of course. You'll want to see the finger-prints too, I daresay," said the Major, passing him on to Inspector Colwall.
"Half that gang up at the Manor," confided Colwall, as he closed the door of the Chief Constable's room, "will just about throw fits when they realise you're from Scotland Yard."
"Excitable people, are they?"
"I believe you! Miss Herriard's a real tragedy-queen, and Miss Dean's the sort who'd go off into hysterics for two pins."