Nigel looked up. “Are you so positive,” he said, “that some of their statements are not true?”
“Certainly,” Alleyn said. “The story of Wutherwood promising to pay up is without doubt a tarradiddle. Roberta Grey tipped the wink to Lord Charles and Master Henry. Martin, the constable on duty, heard her do it. She said: ‘You must feel glad he was so generous, after all. It’ll be nice to remember that.’ You’ll find it in the report. I said she was a courageous little liar, didn’t I?”
“Is it the only lie she handed in?” asked Fox deeply.
“I’m sure it is. She made a brave shot at it but she had her ears laid back for the effort. I should say she was by habit an unusually truthful little party. I’ll stake my pension she hadn’t the remotest notion of the significance of her one really startling bit of information. She was absolutely sure of herself, too. Repeated it twice, and signed a statement to the same effect.”
“Here, wait a bit,” Nigel ejaculated and hastily turned back the pages of his report.
“If she’s right,” said Fox, “it plays bobs-a-dying with the whole blooming case.”
“It may make it a good deal simpler. Is that commissionarie fellow all right, Fox? Dependable?”
“I should say so. He noticed the eccentric old lady — Lady Katherine Lobe — all right. She walked down but he didn’t miss her. And he didn’t miss that chap Giggle or Miss Tinkerton either. Passed the time of day with them as they went out. And, by the way, you’ll notice he confirms Tinkerton’s story that she got downstairs just after Giggle.”
“Miserable female,” Alleyn muttered. “There’s a liar if you like! Still, the commissionarie seems sound enough.”
“Rather an observant sort of chap I should say,” Fox agreed. “They get a knack of noticing people at that job.”