"It may have been, but not by him. He was in the servants' hall."
"That's what he said."
"Exactly. And if he was as smart as you seem to think, he wouldn't have said that if he couldn't have proved it. You can check up on it: in fact, you must; but if you don't find that he's borne out by the other servants I'll be surprised."
"Well, I can't get it out of my head that he's the one person who could have gone in and out of the deceased's room as he pleased, and, what's more, have left his finger-prints about without occasioning any suspicion. I suppose no one could have monkeyed about with the bedroom windows?"
Hemingway shook his head. "You can't slip a knifeblade in between that kind of casement-window and its frame, if that's what you're thinking of." He frowned suddenly. "I wonder, though?… My lad, we'll go back to the house! Then you can nose round for a handy garden-ladder, while I have a heart-to-heart with old Joseph Herriard."
Unaware of the ordeal before him, Joseph had been trying, throughout luncheon, to second Mrs. Dean's attempts to introduce what she called a normal note into the party's conversation. Having announced brightly that they must try not to be morbid, Mrs. Dean had favoured the company with some anecdotes of a winter spent in the south of France; but as these seemed to lack any other point than the introdction of the names of the well-born people she had met in Nice, no discussion was engendered, and the subject petered out. Maud contributed her mite by recalling that the Archduchess Sophia removed the Empress's children from her care, and shut them up in a wing of the palace. Stephen was heard to groan, and although Mrs. Dean, with what Mathilda could not but consider very good manners, showed herself willing to search her memory for further details of the Empress's ill-starred career, Joseph evidently felt that no one else would have the patience to endure more Imperial reminiscences, and hastily changed the subject.
But neither his nor Mrs. Dean's efforts could avail to keep the talk away from Nathaniel's murder. It loomed too large in everyone's minds; and although Stephen was taciturn, and Maud detached, it was not long before it had become the sole topic of any sustained conversation. Even Joseph succumbed, and said, for perhaps the sixth time, that he felt sure someone from outside had committed the murder. This led to a discussion on the possible ways by which anyone could have gained access to Nathaniel's bedroom, and Valerie propounded the suggestion that there must be a secret passage behind the oak-panelling. This idea, thrown out on the spur of the moment, took such instant possession of her mind that she reiterated her dread of spending another night under this ill-omened roof; and it might even have induced her to consent to share her mother's bedroom, had she not reflected in time that she would not, in this event, be allowed to smoke in bed, or to read into the small hours.
"My little girl mustn't let her nerves run away with her," said Mrs. Dean bracingly. "Who could possibly want to murder you, my pet?"
A glance at Stephen's face might have provided her with a possible answer, but happily she did not look in his direction.
Paula, somewhat unexpectedly, said: "I wonder if there is a way into Uncle's room which we don't know about? Is there, Joe?"