III

George Bartlett was a thin, lanky youth with a prominent Adam’s appleand an immense difficulty in saying what he meant. He was in such a stateof dither that it was hard to get a calm statement from him.

“I say, it is awful, isn’t it? Sort of thing one reads about in the Sunday pa-pers—but one doesn’t feel it really happens, don’t you know?”

“Unfortunately there is no doubt about it, Mr. Bartlett,” said the Superin-tendent.

“No, no, of course not. But it seems so rum somehow. And miles fromhere and everything—in some country house, wasn’t it? Awfully countyand all that. Created a bit of a stir in the neighbourhood—what?”

Colonel Melchett took charge.

“How well did you know the dead girl, Mr. Bartlett?”

George Bartlett looked alarmed.

“Oh, n-n-n-ot well at all, s-s-sir. No, hardly at all—if you know what Imean. Danced with her once or twice—passed the time of day—bit of ten-nis—you know.”

“You were, I think, the last person to see her alive last night?”

“I suppose I was—doesn’t it sound awful? I mean, she was perfectly allright when I saw her—absolutely.”

“What time was that, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Well, you know, I never know about time — wasn’t very late, if youknow what I mean.”

“You danced with her?”

“Yes — as a matter of fact — well, yes, I did. Early on in the evening,though. Tell you what, it was just after her exhibition dance with the profellow. Must have been ten, half-past, eleven, I don’t know.”

“Never mind the time. We can fix that. Please tell us exactly whathappened.”

“Well, we danced, don’t you know. Not that I’m much of a dancer.”

“How you dance is not really relevant, Mr. Bartlett.”

George Bartlett cast an alarmed eye on the Colonel and stammered:

“No—er—n-n-n-o, I suppose it isn’t. Well, as I say, we danced, round andround, and I talked, but Ruby didn’t say very much and she yawned a bit.

As I say, I don’t dance awfully well, and so girls—well—inclined to give it amiss, if you know what I mean. She said she had a headache—I knowwhere I get off, so I said righty ho, and that was that.”

“What was the last you saw of her?”

“She went off upstairs.”

“She said nothing about meeting anyone? Or going for a drive? Or—or—having a date?” The Colonel used the colloquial expression with a slight ef-fort.

Bartlett shook his head.

“Not to me.” He looked rather mournful. “Just gave me the push.”

“What was her manner? Did she seem anxious, abstracted, anything onher mind?”

George Bartlett considered. Then he shook his head.

“Seemed a bit bored. Yawned, as I said. Nothing more.”

Colonel Melchett said:

“And what did you do, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Eh?”

“What did you do when Ruby Keene left you?”

George Bartlett gaped at him.

“Let’s see now—what did I do?”

“We’re waiting for you to tell us.”

“Yes, yes—of course. Jolly difficult, remembering things, what? Let mesee. Shouldn’t be surprised if I went into the bar and had a drink.”

“Did you go into the bar and have a drink?”

“That’s just it. I did have a drink. Don’t think it was just then. Have anidea I wandered out, don’t you know? Bit of air. Rather stuffy for Septem-ber. Very nice outside. Yes, that’s it. I strolled around a bit, then I came inand had a drink and then I strolled back to the ballroom. Wasn’t much do-ing. Noticed what’s-her-name—Josie—was dancing again. With the tennisfellow. She’d been on the sick list—twisted ankle or something.”

“That fixes the time of your return at midnight. Do you intend us to un-derstand that you spent over an hour walking about outside?”

“Well, I had a drink, you know. I was—well, I was thinking of things.”

This statement received more credulity than any other.

Colonel Melchett said sharply:

“What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Things,” said Mr. Bartlett vaguely.

“You have a car, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve got a car.”

“Where was it, in the hotel garage?”

“No, it was in the courtyard, as a matter of fact. Thought I might go for aspin, you see.”

“Perhaps you did go for a spin?”

“No—no, I didn’t. Swear I didn’t.”

“You didn’t, for instance, take Miss Keene for a spin?”

“Oh, I say. Look here, what are you getting at? I didn’t—I swear I didn’t.

Really, now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bartlett, I don’t think there is anything more at present.

At present,” repeated Colonel Melchett with a good deal of emphasis on thewords.

They left Mr. Bartlett looking after them with a ludicrous expression ofalarm on his unintellectual face.

“Brainless young ass,” said Colonel Melchett. “Or isn’t he?”

Superintendent Harper shook his head.

“We’ve got a long way to go,” he said.