"That doesn't concern you, Captain Billington-Smith. Now, you are not bound to make a statement, but in your own interests I advise you to do so."
"It is quite obvious that I must," replied Francis. "Well, my uncle didn't send me the notes. You never really thought he had sent them, did, you? It would have been remarkably difficult to have proved that he hadn't, though. I robbed the safe when I knew he would be out of the house. I hope you notice my use of the phrase "robbed the safe". It sounds much better than "stole the money", and comes to the same thing." He gave a mirthless laugh, and threw his half-smoked cigarette into the grate. "I wanted it pretty badly. A card debt, as I quite truthfully told you. A cheque on my bank, judging from an engaging chat I had with the manager a week ago, didn't seem to me to stand much chance of being honoured. For which very good reason I came to spend the week-end in this house. My uncle rather liked me, you know. In his saner moments he would have paid much more than one hundred and thirty pounds to keep me — or his name — out of the mud. Unfortunately I didn't strike him in one of these. That was thanks to my cousin's perfectly insane infatuation with the fair Lola. I did what I could, but even my handling of Uncle failed. I tackled him on Monday, immediately after breakfast. He was all tuned up for one final, cataclysmic quarrel with Geoffrey. I might as well have talked to a brick wall. So I left him to have it out with Geoffrey. If Geoffrey had promised to abjure Lola and be a good boy there might have been a chance for me. So I waited till the row was over. The sight of Geoffrey gnawing his fingers and rolling his eyes in the manner of one goaded beyond endurance told me, however, that there was still no hope. I took my departure. The car, by the way, was running badly — dam' badly, but I was really too worried to care. I drove slowly towards London, wondering what the hell I was to do next." He stopped, and sat down in a chair by the table. "By the time I'd covered about ten miles I knew what I was going to do. And now I shall have to go back a bit. Do tell me if I'm boring you!"
Harding said only: "Go on, please."
"At breakfast my uncle had favoured us with a short dissertation on method, and the way to run a household. He announced that at ten o'clock he was going to Ralton to cash a cheque for the month's expenses, and at the same time he made an assignation with the Halliday woman, to take her to see a litter of pups at his keeper's cottage at eleven o'clock. Wasn't it providential?"
"I take it you knew the workings of the safe?"
"Oh lord, yes! Who didn't? I turned the car and drove back, running it finally up the track where it was found. Criminals always make at least one mistake, don't they? That was mine. I thought the track was disused. I walked up through the spinney, skirted the edge of the drive, keeping to the cover of all those gloomy rhododendrons, and entered the study by the front window, at eleven thirty. The money was, as I had expected, in the safe. I took the exact sum I wanted, and departed again. Time, probably about eleven-forty-five, when I got back to the car. May have been later, but not much. Then I drove to Bramhurst."
"What I told you yesterday about that run was substantially correct, though I actually fetched up at the garage at one-thirty and not, as I first stated, at twelve thirty. Ah, you'd found that out already, had you? Stupid of me to have lied on that point, but I thought it more than likely that they wouldn't have any idea at the garage what time I handed the car over to them. They mended my tyre, cleaned the jet, which was badly choked, and I accomplished the rest of the journey in record time. Not really a good story, is it?"
"You must have been very badly in need of the money to take such a risk, Captain Billington-Smith."
"I was, but not, believe me, badly enough in need of it to murder my uncle. I admit it was an idiotic thing to do. I yielded to impulse. I usually do. The risk wasn't of exposure, though. But if Uncle succeeded in tracing the notes to me I ran a fair chance of being cut out of his Will. At the time I didn't consider that. One can't think of everything, can one?" He got up, and walked over to the old-fashioned mirror over the mantelpiece, and straightened his tie. In the mirror his eyes met Harding's. "Well, what is the next move? Are you going to arrest me on suspicion of having murdered my uncle? I don't somehow think you'll get a verdict."
"No, I haven't applied for a warrant for your arrest yet," answered Harding. "But it's not, as you said, a good story. I shall have to ask you to remain on the premises until I've investigated it. Meanwhile, I want you to sit down and put on paper what you have just told me."