II

Basil Blake’s cottage, which consisted of all modern conveniences enclosedin a hideous shell of half timbering and sham Tudor, was known to thepostal authorities, and to William Booker, builder, as “Chatsworth”; toBasil and his friends as “The Period Piece,” and to the village of St. MaryMead at large as “Mr. Booker’s new house.”

It was little more than a quarter of a mile from the village proper, beingsituated on a new building estate that had been bought by the enterprisingMr. Booker just beyond the Blue Boar, with frontage on what had been aparticularly unspoilt country lane. Gossington Hall was about a milefarther on along the same road.

Lively interest had been aroused in St. Mary Mead when news wentround that “Mr. Booker’s new house” had been bought by a film star.

Eager watch was kept for the first appearance of the legendary creature inthe village, and it may be said that as far as appearances went Basil Blakewas all that could be asked for. Little by little, however, the real factsleaked out. Basil Blake was not a film star—not even a film actor. He was avery junior person, rejoicing in the title of about fifteenth in the list ofthose responsible for Set Decorations at Lemville Studios, headquarters ofBritish New Era Films. The village maidens lost interest, and the rulingclass of censorious spinsters took exception to Basil Blake’s way of life.

Only the landlord of the Blue Boar continued to be enthusiastic about Basiland Basil’s friends. The revenues of the Blue Boar had increased since theyoung man’s arrival in the place.

The police car stopped outside the distorted rustic gate of Mr. Booker’sfancy, and Colonel Melchett, with a glance of distaste at the excessive halftimbering of Chatsworth, strode up to the front door and attacked itbriskly with the knocker.

It was opened much more promptly than he had expected. A young manwith straight, somewhat long, black hair, wearing orange corduroytrousers and a royal-blue shirt, snapped out: “Well, what do you want?”

“Are you Mr. Basil Blake?”

“Of course I am.”

“I should be glad to have a few words with you, if I may, Mr. Blake?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Colonel Melchett, the Chief Constable of the County.”

Mr. Blake said insolently:

“You don’t say so; how amusing!”

And Colonel Melchett, following the other in, understood what ColonelBantry’s reactions had been. The toe of his own boot itched.

Containing himself, however, he said with an attempt to speak pleas-antly:

“You’re an early riser, Mr. Blake.”

“Not at all. I haven’t been to bed yet.”

“Indeed.”

“But I don’t suppose you’ve come here to inquire into my hours ofbedgoing — or if you have it’s rather a waste of the county’s time andmoney. What is it you want to speak to me about?”

Colonel Melchett cleared his throat.

“I understand, Mr. Blake, that last weekend you had a visitor—a—er—fair-haired young lady.”

Basil Blake stared, threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“Have the old cats been on to you from the village? About my morals?

Damn it all, morals aren’t a police matter. You know that.”

“As you say,” said Melchett dryly, “your morals are no concern of mine.

I have come to you because the body of a fair-haired young woman ofslightly—er—exotic appearance has been found—murdered.”

“Strewth!” Blake stared at him. “Where?”

“In the library at Gossington Hall.”

“At Gossington? At old Bantry’s? I say, that’s pretty rich. Old Bantry! Thedirty old man!”

Colonel Melchett went very red in the face. He said sharply through therenewed mirth of the young man opposite him: “Kindly control yourtongue, sir. I came to ask you if you can throw any light on this business.”

“You’ve come round to ask me if I’ve missed a blonde? Is that it? Whyshould—hallo, ’allo, ’allo, what’s this?”

A car had drawn up outside with a scream of brakes. Out of it tumbled ayoung woman dressed in flapping black-and-white pyjamas. She had scar-let lips, blackened eyelashes, and a platinum-blonde head. She strode upto the door, flung it open, and exclaimed angrily:

“Why did you run out on me, you brute?”

Basil Blake had risen.

“So there you are! Why shouldn’t I leave you? I told you to clear out andyou wouldn’t.”

“Why the hell should I because you told me to? I was enjoying myself.”

“Yes—with that filthy brute Rosenberg. You know what he’s like.”

“You were jealous, that’s all.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I hate to see a girl I like who can’t hold her drinkand lets a disgusting Central European paw her about.”

“That’s a damned lie. You were drinking pretty hard yourself—and go-ing on with the black-haired Spanish bitch.”

“If I take you to a party I expect you to be able to behave yourself.”

“And I refuse to be dictated to, and that’s that. You said we’d go to theparty and come on down here afterwards. I’m not going to leave a partybefore I’m ready to leave it.”

“No—and that’s why I left you flat. I was ready to come down here and Icame. I don’t hang round waiting for any fool of a woman.”

“Sweet, polite person you are!”

“You seem to have followed me down all right!”

“I wanted to tell you what I thought of you!”

“If you think you can boss me, my girl, you’re wrong!”

“And if you think you can order me about, you can think again!”

They glared at each other.

It was at this moment that Colonel Melchett seized his opportunity, andcleared his throat loudly.

Basil Blake swung round on him.

“Hallo, I forgot you were here. About time you took yourself off, isn’t it?

Let me introduce you—Dinah Lee—Colonel Blimp of the County Police.

And now, Colonel, that you’ve seen my blonde is alive and in good condi-tion, perhaps you’ll get on with the good work concerning old Bantry’slittle bit of fluff. Good morning!”

Colonel Melchett said:

“I advise you to keep a civil tongue in your head, young man, or you’lllet yourself in for trouble,” and stumped out, his face red and wrathful.