II

Activity was always to Inspector Slack’s taste. To rush off in a car, to si-lence rudely those people who were anxious to tell him things, to cut shortconversations on the plea of urgent necessity. All this was the breath oflife to Slack.

In an incredibly short time, therefore, he had arrived at Danemouth, re-ported at police headquarters, had a brief interview with a distracted andapprehensive hotel manager, and, leaving the latter with the doubtfulcomfort of—“got to make sure it is the girl, first, before we start raising thewind”—was driving back to Much Benham in company with Ruby Keene’snearest relative.

He had put through a short call to Much Benham before leavingDanemouth, so the Chief Constable was prepared for his arrival, thoughnot perhaps for the brief introduction of: “This is Josie, sir.”

Colonel Melchett stared at his subordinate coldly. His feeling was thatSlack had taken leave of his senses.

The young woman who had just got out of the car came to the rescue.

“That’s what I’m known as professionally,” she explained with a mo-mentary flash of large, handsome white teeth. “Raymond and Josie, mypartner and I call ourselves, and, of course, all the hotel know me as Josie.

Josephine Turner’s my real name.”

Colonel Melchett adjusted himself to the situation and invited MissTurner to sit down, meanwhile casting a swift, professional glance overher.

She was a good-looking young woman of perhaps nearer thirty thantwenty, her looks depending more on skilful grooming than actual fea-tures. She looked competent and good-tempered, with plenty of commonsense. She was not the type that would ever be described as glamorous,but she had nevertheless plenty of attraction. She was discreetly made-upand wore a dark tailor-made suit. Though she looked anxious and upsetshe was not, the Colonel decided, particularly grief-stricken.

As she sat down she said: “It seems too awful to be true. Do you reallythink it’s Ruby?”

“That, I’m afraid, is what we’ve got to ask you to tell us. I’m afraid it maybe rather unpleasant for you.”

Miss Turner said apprehensively:

“Does she—does she—look very terrible?”

“Well—I’m afraid it may be rather a shock to you.” He handed her his ci-garette case and she accepted one gratefully.

“Do—do you want me to look at her right away?”

“It would be best, I think, Miss Turner. You see, it’s not much good ask-ing you questions until we’re sure. Best get it over, don’t you think?”

“All right.”

They drove down to the mortuary.

When Josie came out after a brief visit, she looked rather sick.

“It’s Ruby all right,” she said shakily. “Poor kid! Goodness, I do feelqueer. There isn’t”—she looked round wistfully—“any gin?”

Gin was not available, but brandy was, and after gulping a little downMiss Turner regained her composure. She said frankly:

“It gives you a turn, doesn’t it, seeing anything like that? Poor littleRube! What swine men are, aren’t they?”

“You believe it was a man?”

Josie looked slightly taken aback.

“Wasn’t it? Well, I mean—I naturally thought—”

“Any special man you were thinking of?”

She shook her head vigorously.

“No—not me. I haven’t the least idea. Naturally Ruby wouldn’t have leton to me if—”

“If what?”

Josie hesitated.

“Well—if she’d been—going about with anyone.”

Melchett shot her a keen glance. He said no more until they were backat his office. Then he began:

“Now, Miss Turner, I want all the information you can give me.”

“Yes, of course. Where shall I begin?”

“I’d like the girl’s full name and address, her relationship to you and allyou know about her.”

Josephine Turner nodded. Melchett was confirmed in his opinion thatshe felt no particular grief. She was shocked and distressed but no more.

She spoke readily enough.

“Her name was Ruby Keene—her professional name, that is. Her realname was Rosy Legge. Her mother was my mother’s cousin. I’ve knownher all my life, but not particularly well, if you know what I mean. I’ve gota lot of cousins—some in business, some on the stage. Ruby was more orless training for a dancer. She had some good engagements last year inpanto and that sort of thing. Not really classy, but good provincial com-panies. Since then she’s been engaged as one of the dancing partners atthe Palais de Danse in Brixwell — South London. It’s a nice respectableplace and they look after the girls well, but there isn’t much money in it.”

She paused.

Colonel Melchett nodded.

“Now this is where I come in. I’ve been dance and bridge hostess at theMajestic in Danemouth for three years. It’s a good job, well paid and pleas-ant to do. You look after people when they arrive—size them up, of course—some like to be left alone and others are lonely and want to get into theswing of things. You try to get the right people together for bridge and allthat, and get the young people dancing with each other. It needs a bit oftact and experience.”

Again Melchett nodded. He thought that this girl would be good at herjob; she had a pleasant, friendly way with her and was, he thought,shrewd without being in the least intellectual.

“Besides that,” continued Josie, “I do a couple of exhibition dances everyevening with Raymond. Raymond Starr—he’s the tennis and dancing pro.

Well, as it happens, this summer I slipped on the rocks bathing one dayand gave my ankle a nasty turn.”

Melchett had noticed that she walked with a slight limp.

“Naturally that put the stop to dancing for a bit and it was rather awk-ward. I didn’t want the hotel to get someone else in my place. That’s al-ways a danger”—for a minute her good-natured blue eyes were hard andsharp; she was the female fighting for existence—“that they may queeryour pitch, you see. So I thought of Ruby and suggested to the managerthat I should get her down. I’d carry on with the hostess business and thebridge and all that. Ruby would just take on the dancing. Keep it in thefamily, if you see what I mean?”

Melchett said he saw.

“Well, they agreed, and I wired to Ruby and she came down. Rather achance for her. Much better class than anything she’d ever done before.

That was about a month ago.”

Colonel Melchett said:

“I understand. And she was a success?”

“Oh, yes,” Josie said carelessly, “she went down quite well. She doesn’tdance as well as I do, but Raymond’s clever and carried her through, andshe was quite nice-looking, you know—slim and fair and baby-looking.

Overdid the makeup a bit—I was always on at her about that. But youknow what girls are. She was only eighteen, and at that age they always goand overdo it. It doesn’t do for a good-class place like the Majestic. I wasalways ticking her off about it and getting her to tone it down.”

Melchett asked: “People liked her?”

“Oh, yes. Mind you, Ruby hadn’t got much comeback. She was a bitdumb. She went down better with the older men than with the youngones.”

“Had she got any special friend?”

The girl’s eyes met his with complete understanding.

“Not in the way you mean. Or, at any rate, not that I knew about. Butthen, you see, she wouldn’t tell me.”

Just for a moment Melchett wondered why not—Josie did not give theimpression of being a strict disciplinarian. But he only said: “Will you de-scribe to me now when you last saw your cousin.”

“Last night. She and Raymond do two exhibition dances—one at 10:30and the other at midnight. They finished the first one. After it, I noticedRuby dancing with one of the young men staying in the hotel. I was play-ing bridge with some people in the lounge. There’s a glass panel betweenthe lounge and the ballroom. That’s the last time I saw her. Just after mid-night Raymond came up in a terrible taking, said where was Ruby, shehadn’t turned up, and it was time to begin. I was vexed, I can tell you!

That’s the sort of silly thing girls do and get the management’s backs upand then they get the sack! I went up with him to her room, but she wasn’tthere. I noticed that she’d changed. The dress she’d been dancing in—asort of pink, foamy thing with full skirts—was lying over a chair. Usuallyshe kept the same dress on unless it was the special dance night—Wednes-days, that is.

“I’d no idea where she’d got to. We got the band to play one more fox-trot—still no Ruby, so I said to Raymond I’d do the exhibition dance withhim. We chose one that was easy on my ankle and made it short—but itplayed up my ankle pretty badly all the same. It’s all swollen this morning.

Still Ruby didn’t show up. We sat about waiting up for her until twoo’clock. Furious with her, I was.”

Her voice vibrated slightly. Melchett caught the note of real anger in it.

Just for a moment he wondered. The reaction seemed a little more intensethan was justified by the facts. He had a feeling of something deliberatelyleft unsaid. He said:

“And this morning, when Ruby Keene had not returned and her bed hadnot been slept in, you went to the police?”

He knew from Slack’s brief telephone message from Danemouth thatthat was not the case. But he wanted to hear what Josephine Turner wouldsay.

She did not hesitate. She said: “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not, Miss Turner?”

Her eyes met his frankly. She said:

“You wouldn’t—in my place!”

“You think not?”

Josie said:

“I’ve got my job to think about. The one thing a hotel doesn’t want isscandal—especially anything that brings in the police. I didn’t think any-thing had happened to Ruby. Not for a minute! I thought she’d just made afool of herself about some young man. I thought she’d turn up all right—and I was going to give her a good dressing down when she did! Girls ofeighteen are such fools.”

Melchett pretended to glance through his notes.

“Ah, yes, I see it was a Mr. Jefferson who went to the police. One of theguests staying at the hotel?”

Josephine Turner said shortly:

“Yes.”

Colonel Melchett asked:

“What made this Mr. Jefferson do that?”

Josie was stroking the cuff of her jacket. There was a constraint in hermanner. Again Colonel Melchett had a feeling that something was beingwithheld. She said rather sullenly:

“He’s an invalid. He—he gets all het up rather easily. Being an invalid, Imean.”

Melchett passed on from that. He asked:

“Who was the young man with whom you last saw your cousin dan-cing?”

“His name’s Bartlett. He’d been there about ten days.”

“Were they on very friendly terms?”

“Not specially, I should say. Not that I knew, anyway.”

Again a curious note of anger in her voice.

“What does he have to say?”

“Said that after their dance Ruby went upstairs to powder her nose.”

“That was when she changed her dress?”

“I suppose so.”

“And that is the last thing you know? After that she just—”

“Vanished,” said Josie. “That’s right.”

“Did Miss Keene know anybody in St. Mary Mead? Or in this neighbour-hood?”

“I don’t know. She may have done. You see, quite a lot of young mencome into Danemouth to the Majestic from all round about. I wouldn’tknow where they lived unless they happened to mention it.”

“Did you ever hear your cousin mention Gossington?”

“Gossington?” Josie looked patently puzzled.

“Gossington Hall.”

She shook her head.

“Never heard of it.” Her tone carried conviction. There was curiosity init too.

“Gossington Hall,” explained Colonel Melchett, “is where her body wasfound.”

“Gossington Hall?” She stared. “How extraordinary!”

Melchett thought to himself: “Extraordinary’s the word!” Aloud he said:

“Do you know a Colonel or Mrs. Bantry?”

Again Josie shook her head.

“Or a Mr. Basil Blake?”

She frowned slightly.

“I think I’ve heard that name. Yes, I’m sure I have—but I don’t remem-ber anything about him.”

The diligent Inspector Slack slid across to his superior officer a pagetorn from his notebook. On it was pencilled:

“Col. Bantry dined at Majestic last week.”

Melchett looked up and met the Inspector’s eye. The Chief Constableflushed. Slack was an industrious and zealous officer and Melchett dis-liked him a good deal. But he could not disregard the challenge. The In-spector was tacitly accusing him of favouring his own class—of shieldingan “old school tie.”

He turned to Josie.

“Miss Turner, I should like you, if you do not mind, to accompany me toGossington Hall.”

Coldly, defiantly, almost ignoring Josie’s murmur of assent, Melchett’seyes met Slack’s.