“My tale’s more elaborate than these two. It’ll take longer to tell, I expect. I went upstairs to bed with the rest of the party, but I didn’t undress just then. I felt that storm coming up, and I like storms. I wouldn’t miss one. So I just sat at my window. My room’s the second on the corridor in the bachelor’s wing, as you go along from the stair-case. Yours is the first, isn’t it, Mr. Westenhanger?”
“Yes, I’m next you.”
“Your room was empty, that night, so anyone going along the corridor had to pass my door before they got to any other room. I was wide awake, at my window. I’ve pretty sharp ears, and I was listening hard for the first of the thunder. I heard nobody pass my door. I’d have heard anyone in the corridor. Make a note of that, Mr. Stickney. It seems important.”
He broke off and glanced contemptuously at Freddie.
“At almost exactly half-past twelve,” he went on, “the storm broke. I looked at my watch at the first thunder-clap. It was a good storm. I’ve seldom seen better. But from my point of view it was rather a failure, just then. I couldn’t see well enough out of my window. I was losing half of it. So I got up—I hadn’t undressed—and I took my candle with me because I didn’t know where the corridor switches were. Nor the switches in the hall below. I’d failed to make a note of them.”
He paused for a moment as though expecting comments, but no one said anything.
“I went downstairs. I wanted to get outside if I could. I didn’t mean to lose any of that storm. At the main door, I had a glance at the burglar alarm. It’s the same pattern as I use in my own house, so I put it out of action and opened the door. It was quite dry outside then. The rain hadn’t started. So I went out.”
Westenhanger was struck by an idea.
“Just a moment, Mr. Wraxall. That meant you left the door open behind you, didn’t it? Could anyone have got in without you seeing him?”
Wraxall nodded approval.