Fayre nodded.
“Anything settled about the funeral?” he asked.
“The body’s to be moved to Hampshire, I understand. The family grave is there and Miss Allen wished it. Very trying for Miss Allen, the whole thing, though they do say she’s come into a bit of money as next of kin, seeing as the deceased left no will.”
Gunnet departed, leaving Fayre with further food for reflection. He was very thoughtful as he strolled through the little town, whiling away the time until Grey should return from his visit to Leslie. By the time the solicitor joined him, armed with the permit, he had decided that, reluctant as he felt to do so, he would have to place Miss Allen in his category of suspected persons.
They found the tramp, a small, grey, shrunken individual, neatly tucked up in the accident ward of the infirmary with a cradle over his injured leg. As a potential murderer Fayre found him disappointing. He had already gathered from Gunnet that the police were inclined to accept his statement that he was not at the farm at the time the crime was committed. At the same time he seemed unable to produce a satisfactory alibi. One thing was obvious, the man was scared, though he tried to hide it under an assumption of indifference.
Grey questioned him closely as to his movements on the night of the twenty-third. He admitted that he had intended to sleep at the farm and described how he had looked through the window into the sitting-room and been frightened away by what he had seen there. He corroborated the statement of the juryman that he had left Whitbury about four in the afternoon, arriving at the corner of the lane leading to the farm at about five-thirty. According to his statement he then rested for about an hour on the grass by the roadside, not wishing to try the farm while any one was likely to be about in the yard. He had then retraced his steps down the highroad, intending to try his luck at the Lodge at Galston in the hope of begging some food. Here, however, he was frightened away by the barking of a dog and returned to the lane, this time going up to the farm. Finding no one about, he made his way to the barn and crept into the loft, meaning to stay the night there. He remained in the barn till about eight, when he was driven out by hunger. Then it was that he made the discovery that resulted in his abrupt departure from the neighbourhood of the farm.
“It wasn’t likely I should stay there, after what I’d seen, now was it?” he demanded indignantly.
“You might have informed the police,” suggested Grey.
“The police! Not me! Let them find out for themselves. It’s what they’re paid for!”
“Then from five-thirty to six-thirty, according to your account, you were lying in the grass at the corner of the lane,” said Grey, consulting his notes.