short podgy fingers of Lord Easterfield had
held it earlier that day in the drawing room
at Ashe Manor. The Moorish knife with the
sharp blade.
Bridget felt slightly sick. She must play
for time--yes, and she must make the woman
talk--this lean gray woman whom nobody
loved. It ought not to be difficult--not really.
Because she must want to talk, oh, so
badly--and the only person she could ever
talk to was someone like Bridget--someone
who was going to be silenced forever. Bridget
said, in a faint thick voice, "What's that
knife?"
And then Miss Waynflete laughed. It was
a horrible laugh, soft and musical and ladylike
and quite inhuman. She said, "It's for
you, Bridget. For you! I've hated you, you
know, for a very long time."
Bridget said, "Because I was going to
marry Gordon Easterfield?"
Miss Waynflete nodded. "You're clever.
You're quite clever! This, you see, will be
the crowning proof against him. You'll be
found here, with your throat cut--and his
knife, and his fingerprints on the knife!
Clever, the way I asked to see it this morn
ing! And then I slipped it into my bag, wrapped in a handkerchief, whilst you were upstairs. So easy! But the whole thing has
been easy. I would hardly have believed it."
Bridget said--still in the thick muffled
voice of a person heavily drugged, "That's
because you're so devilishly clever."
Miss Waynflete laughed her ladylike little
laugh again. She said, with a horrible kind of
pride, "Yes, I always had brains, even as a
girl. But they wouldn't let me do anything. I
had to stay at home, doing nothing. And
then Gordon--just a common bootmaker's
son, but he had ambition. I knew--I knew
he would rise in the world. And then he
jilted me--jilted me! All because of that ridiculous
business with the bird." Her hands
made a queer gesture, as though she were
twisting something. Again a wave of sickness
passed over Bridget.
"Gordon Ragg daring to jilt me. Colonel
Waynflete's daughter! I swore I'd pay him
out for that! I used to think about it night
after night. And then we got poorer and
poorer. The house had to be sold. He bought
it! He came along, patronizing me, offering
me a job in my own old home. How I hated
him then! But I never showed my feelings.
We were taught that as girls--a most valu-
able training. That, I always think, is where
breeding tells."
She was silent a minute. Bridget watched
her, hardly daring to breathe, lest she should
stem the flow of words.
Miss Waynflete went on softly, "All the
time I was thinking and thinking. First of
all, I just thought of killing him. That's when
I began to read up criminology--quietly, you
know--in the library. And really I found my
reading came in most useful more than once
later. The door of Amy's room, for instance, turning the key in the lock from the outside
with pincers after I'd changed the bottles by
her bed. How she snored, that girl. Quite
disgusting, it was!" She paused. "Let me
see, where was I?"
That gift which Bridget had cultivated, which had charmed Lord Easterfield--the
gift of the perfect listener--stood her in good
stead now. Honoria Waynflete might be a
homicidal maniac, but she was also something
much more common than that. She
was a human being who wanted to talk about
herself. And with that class of human being
Bridget was well fitted to cope. She said, and her voice had exactly the right invitation
in it, "You meant at first to kill him."
"Yes, but that didn't satisfy me--much
too ordinary. It had to be something better
than just killing. And then I got this idea. It
just came to me. He should suffer for committing
a lot of crimes of which he was quite
innocent. He should be a murderer! He
should be hanged for my crimes, Or else
they'd say he was mad and he would be shut
up all his life. That might be even better."
She giggled now. A horrible little giggle. Her
pupils.
"As I told you, I read a lot of books on
crime. I chose my victims carefully; there
was not to be too much suspicion at first.
You see"--her voice deepened--"I enjoyed
the killing. That disagreeable woman, Lydia
Horton--she'd patronized me--once she referred
to me as an 'old maid.5 I was glad
when Gordon quarreled with her. Two birds
with one stone, I thought. Such fun, sitting
by her bedside and slipping the arsenic in
her tea, and then going out and telling the
nurse how Mrs. Horton had complained of
the bitter taste of Lord Easterfield's grapes!
The stupid woman never repeated that, which was such a pity.
"And then the others! As soon as I heard
that Gordon had a grievance against anyone, it was so easy to arrange for an accident!
And he was such a fool--such an incredible
fool! I made him believe that there was something
very special about him! That anyone
who went against him suffered. He believed
it quite easily. Poor dear Gordon, he'd believe
anything. So gullible!"
Bridget thought of herself saying to Luke
scornfully, "Gordon! He could believe
anything!" Easy? How easy! Poor pompous, credulous little Gordon. But she must learn
more. Easy? This was easy too. She'd done
it as a secretary for years. Quietly encouraged
her employers to talk about themselves.
And this woman wanted badly to talk, to
boast about her own cleverness. Bridget murmured, "But how did you manage it all? I
don't see how you could."
"Oh, it was quite easy. It just needed
organization! When Amy was discharged
from the Manor, I engaged her at once. I
think the hat-paint idea was quite clever--
and the door being locked on the inside made
me quite safe. But of course I was always
safe, because I never had any motive, and
you can't suspect anyone of murder if there
isn't a motive. Carter was quite easy, too; he
was lurching about in the fog, and I caught
up with him on the footbridge and gave him
a quick push. I'm really very strong, you
know."
She paused and the soft horrible little giggle
came again. "The whole thing was such
fun! I shall never forget Tommy's face when
I pushed him off the window sill that day.
He hadn't had the least idea." She leaned
toward Bridget confidentially. "People are
really very stupid, you know. I'd never realized
that before."
Bridget said very softly, "But then, you're
unusually clever."
"Yes, yes; perhaps y
ou're right."
Bridget said, "Doctor Humbleby--that
must have been more difficult?"
"Yes, it was really amazing how that succeeded.
It might not have worked, of course.
But Gordon had been talking to everybody
of his visit to the Wellerman Kreitz Laboratories, and I thought if I could manage it so
that people remembered that visit and connected
it afterwards--And Wonky Pooh's ear
was really very nasty, a lot of discharge. I
managed to run the point of my scissors into
the doctor's hand, and then I was so distressed
and insisted on putting on a dressing
and bandaging it up. He didn't know the
dressing had been infected first from Wonky
Pooh's ear. Of course it mightn't have
worked; it was just a long shot. I was delighted
when it did--especially as Wonky
Pooh had been Lavinia's cat."
Her face darkened. "Lavinia Fullerton!
She guessed. It was she who found Tommy
that day. And then, when Gordon and old
Doctor Humbleby had that row, she caught
me looking at Humbleby. I was off my guard.
I was just wondering exactly how I'd do it.
And she knew! I turned round to find her
watching me and--I gave myself away. I saw
that she knew. She couldn't prove anything, of course; I knew that. But I was afraid, all
the same, someone might believe her. I was
afraid they might believe her at Scotland
Yard. I felt sure that was where she was
going that day. I was in the same train and I
"The whole thing was so easy. She was on
an island crossing Whitehall. I was close behind
her. She never saw me. A big car came
along and I shoved with all my might. I'm
very strong! She went right down in front of
it. I told the woman next to me I'd seen the
number of the car and gave her the number
of Gordon's Rolls. I hoped she'd repeat it to
the police. It was lucky the car didn't stop.
Some chauffeur joyriding without his master's
knowledge, I suspect. Yes, I was lucky
276
there. I'm always lucky. That scene the other
day with Rivers, and Luke Fitzwilliam as
witness. I've had such fun with him, leading
him along! Odd how difficult it was to make
him suspect Gordon. But after Rivers' death
he would be sure to do so. He must! And
now--well, this will just finish the whole
thing nicely."
She got up and came toward Bridget.
She said softly: "Gordon jilted me! He was
going to marry you. All my life I've been
disappointed. I've had nothing--nothing at
all. ..."
0 lean gray woman whom nobody loves
She.
was bending over her, smiling, with
mad light eyes. The knife gleamed.
With all her youth and strength, Bridget
sprang. Like a tiger cat, she flung herself
full force on the other woman, knocking her
back, seizing her right wrist.
Taken by surprise, Honoria Waynflete fell
back before the onslaught. But then, after a
moment's inertia, she began to fight. In
strength there was no comparison between
them. Bridget was young and healthy, with
muscles toughened by games. Honoria
Waynflete was a slender-built, fragile crea'T7'7
ture. But there was one factor on which
Bridget had not reckoned. Honoria
Waynflete was mad. Her strength was the
strength of the insane. She fought like a
devil, and her insane strength was stronger
than the sane muscled strength of Bridget.
They swayed to and fro, and still Bridget
strove to wrest the knife away from her, and
still Honoria Waynflete hung on to it.
And then, little by little, the mad woman's
strength began to prevail. Bridget cried out
now, "Luke! Help! Help!" But she had no
hope of help coming. She and Honoria
Waynflete were alone. Alone in a dead world.
With a supreme effort, she wrenched the
other's wrist back, and at last she heard the
knife fall. The next minute Honoria
Waynflete's two hands had fastened round
her neck in a maniac's grasp, squeezing the
life out of her. She gave one last choked cry.
278
Twenty-three
luke was favorably impressed by the appearance
of Superintendent Battle. He was a
solid comfortable-looking man with a broad
red face and a large handsome mustache. He
did not exactly express brilliance at a first
glance, but a second glance was apt to make
an observant person thoughtful, for Superintendent
Battle's eye was unusually shrewd.
Luke did not make the mistake of underestimating
him. He had met men of Battle's type before. He knew that they could be
trusted, and that they invariably got results.
He could not have wished for a better man
to be put in charge of the case. When they
were alone together, Luke said, "You're
rather a big noise to be sent down on a case
like this."
Superintendent Battle smiled. "It may turn
out to be a serious business, Mr. Fitzwilliam.
')'7Q
When a man like Lord Easterfield is concerned, we don't want to have any mistakes."
"I appreciate that. Are you alone?"
"Oh, no. Got a detective sergeant with
me. He's at the other pub, the Seven Stars, and his job is to keep an eye on his lordship."
"I see."
Battle asked, "In your opinion, Mr.
Fitzwilliam, there's no doubt whatever?
You're pretty sure of your man?"
"On the facts, I don't see that any alternative
theory is possible. Do you want me to
give you the facts?"
"I've had them, thank you, from Sir
William."
"Well, what do you think? I suppose it
seems to you wildly unlikely that a man in
Lord Easterfield's position should be a homicidal
criminal?"
"Very few things seem unlikely to me,"
said Superintendent Battle. "Nothing's impossible
in crime. That's what I've always
said. If you were to tell me that a dear old
maiden lady, or an archbishop, or a schoolgirl, was a dangerous criminal, I wouldn't
say no. I'd look into the matter."
"If you've heard the main facts of the case
from Sir William, I'll just tell you what happened
this morning," said Luke.
He ran over briefly the main lines of his
scene with Lord Easterfield. Superintendent
Battle listened with a good deal of interest.
He said, "You say he was fingering a knife.
Did he make a special point of that knife, Mr. Fitzwilliam? Was he threatening with
it?"
"Not openly. He tested the edge in rather
a nasty way--a kind of esthetic pleasure
about that that I didn't care about. Miss Waynflete felt the same, I believe."
"That's the lady you spoke about--the one
who's known Lord Easte
rfield all her life, and was once engaged to marry him?"
"That's right."
Superintendent Battle said, "I think you
can make your mind easy about the young
lady, Mr. Fitzwilliam. I'll have someone put
on to keep a sharp watch on her. With that, and with Jackson tailing his lordship, there
ought to be no danger of anything happening."
"You relieve my mind a good deal," said
Luke.
The superintendent nodded sympathetically.
"It's a nasty position for you, Mr.
Fitzwilliam. Worrying about Miss Conway.
Mind you, I don't expect this will be an easy
case. Lord Easterfield must be a pretty
shrewd man. He will probably lie low for a
good long while. That is, unless he's got to
the last stage."
"What do you call the last stage?" "A kind of swollen egoism where a criminal
thinks he simply can't be found out.
He's too clever and everybody else is too
stupid. Then, of course, we get him."
Luke nodded. He rose. "Well," he said,
"I wish you luck. Let me help in any way I
«
can."
"Certainly."
"There's nothing that you can suggest?"
Battle turned the question over in his
mind. "I don't think so. Not at the moment.
I just want to get the general hang of things
in the place. Perhaps I could have another
word with you in the evening?"
"Rather."
"I shall know better where we are then."
Luke felt vaguely comforted and soothed.
Many people had had that feeling after an
interview with Superintendent Battle. He
glanced at his watch. Should he go round
and see Bridget before lunch? Better not, he
thought. Miss Waynflete might feel that she
had to ask him to stay for the meal and it
might disorganize her housekeeping. Middleaged
ladies, Luke knew from experience with
aunts, were liable to be fussed over problems
of housekeeping. He wondered if Miss
Waynflete was an aunt? Probably.
He had strolled out to the door of the inn.
A figure in black hurrying down the street
stopped suddenly when she saw him. "Mr.
Fitzwilliam."
"Mrs. Humbleby." He came forward and
shook hands.
She said, "I thought you had left."
"No, only changed my quarters. I'm staying
here now."
"And Bridget? I heard she had left Ashe