“I turned back to come in here. I’d just gone to that table over there to get myself a cigarette when I heard—” she only stopped for a second — “when I heard my sister-in-law screaming. We all went out on the landing.”
“I’ll go on,” said Henry. “We went out to the landing. The lift came up. Aunt Violet was still screaming. Then whichever twin it was opened the lift doors and she sort of half fell out. Then we saw him.”
“Yes. Now, to go back a little way. This call Lord Wutherwood gave — Did it strike none of you as at all odd that he should sit in the lift and shout for Lady Wutherwood?”
“Not in the least,” said Frid. “It was entirely in character. I can’t tell you—”
“My brother,” interrupted Lord Charles hurriedly, “was like that. I mean he did rather sit still and shout for people.”
“I see. You wouldn’t say, on thinking it over, that there was any particular urgency in his voice?”
“I see what you mean, sir,” said Henry. “I’m sure there was nothing wrong when he shouted. I’ll swear nothing happened until after that.”
“But wait a moment.” Lady Charles leant forward and the light from a table lamp caught her face at an exacting angle. Shadows appeared beneath her eyes, her cheekbones; shadows prolonged the small folds at the corners of her mouth and traced out the muscles of her neck. By that trick of lighting a prefiguration of age fell across her. Her voice sharpened. “Wait a moment, all of you. Is it certain that he wasn’t calling out in alarm? How do we know? How do we know that he hadn’t seen something — someone?”
Alleyn saw Lord Charles look sharply at her.
“We don’t know, of course,” he said slowly.