II

Joanna was quite right. The High Street was full of interested groups. Iwas determined to get everyone’s reactions in turn.

I met Griffith first. He looked terribly ill and tired. So much so that Iwondered. Murder is not, certainly, all in the day’s work to a doctor, buthis profession does equip him to face most things including suffering, theugly side of human nature, and the fact of death.

“You look all in,” I said.

“Do I?” He was vague. “Oh! I’ve had some worrying cases lately.”

“Including our lunatic at large?”

“That, certainly.” He looked away from me across the street. I saw a finenerve twitching in his eyelid.

“You’ve no suspicions as to—who?”

“No. No. I wish to God I had.”

He asked abruptly after Joanna, and said, hesitatingly, that he had somephotographs she’d wanted to see.

I offered to take them to her.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I shall be passing that way actually later in themorning.”

I began to be afraid that Griffith had got it badly. Curse Joanna! Griffithwas too good a man to be dangled as a scalp.

I let him go, for I saw his sister coming and I wanted, for once, to talk toher.

Aimée Griffith began, as it were, in the middle of a conversation.

“Absolutely shocking!” she boomed. “I hear you were there — quiteearly?”

There was a question in the words, and her eyes glinted as she stressedthe word “early.” I wasn’t going to tell her that Megan had rung me up. Isaid instead:

“You see, I was a bit uneasy last night. The girl was due to tea at ourhouse and didn’t turn up.”

“And so you feared the worst? Damned smart of you!”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m quite the human bloodhound.”

“It’s the first murder we’ve ever had in Lymstock. Excitement is terrific.

Hope the police can handle it all right.”

“I shouldn’t worry,” I said. “They’re an efficient body of men.”

“Can’t even remember what the girl looked like, although I supposeshe’s opened the door to me dozens of times. Quiet, insignificant littlething. Knocked on the head and then stabbed through the back of theneck, so Owen tells me. Looks like a boyfriend to me. What do you think?”

“That’s your solution?”

“Seems the most likely one. Had a quarrel, I expect. They’re very inbredround here—bad heredity, a lot of them.” She paused, and then went on, “Ihear Megan Hunter found the body? Must have given her a bit of a shock.”

I said shortly:

“It did.”

“Not too good for her, I should imagine. In my opinion she’s not toostrong in the head—and a thing like this might send her completely off heronion.”

I took a sudden resolution. I had to know something.

“Tell me, Miss Griffith, was it you who persuaded Megan to return homeyesterday?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say exactly persuaded.”

I stuck to my guns.

“But you did say something to her?”

Aimée Griffith planted her feet firmly and stared me in the eyes. Shewas, just slightly, on the defensive. She said:

“It’s no good that young woman shirking her responsibilities. She’syoung and she doesn’t know how tongues wag, so I felt it my duty to giveher a hint.”

“Tongues—?” I broke off because I was too angry to go on.

Aimée Griffith continued with that maddeningly complacent confidencein herself which was her chief characteristic:

“Oh, I dare say you don’t hear all the gossip that goes round. I do! I knowwhat people are saying. Mind you, I don’t for a minute think there’s any-thing in it—not for a minute! But you know what people are—if they cansay something ill-natured, they do! And it’s rather hard lines on the girlwhen she’s got her living to earn.”

“Her living to earn?” I said, puzzled.

Aimée went on:

“It’s a difficult position for her, naturally. And I think she did the rightthing. I mean, she couldn’t go off at a moment’s notice and leave the chil-dren with no one to look after them. She’s been splendid — absolutelysplendid. I say so to everybody! But there it is, it’s an invidious position,and people will talk.”

“Who are you talking about?” I asked.

“Elsie Holland, of course,” said Aimée Griffith impatiently. “In my opin-ion, she’s a thoroughly nice girl, and has only been doing her duty.”

“And what are people saying?”

Aimée Griffith laughed. It was, I thought, rather an unpleasant laugh.

“They’re saying that she’s already considering the possibility of becom-ing Mrs. Symmington No. 2—that she’s all out to console the widower andmake herself indispensable.”

“But, good God,” I said, shocked, “Mrs. Symmington’s only been dead aweek!”

Aimée Griffith shrugged her shoulders.

“Of course. It’s absurd! But you know what people are! The Holland girlis young and she’s good-looking—that’s enough. And mind you, being anursery governess isn’t much of a prospect for a girl. I wouldn’t blame herif she wanted a settled home and a husband and was playing her cards ac-cordingly.

“Of course,” she went on, “poor Dick Symmington hasn’t the least idea ofall this! He’s still completely knocked out by Mona Symmington’s death.

But you know what men are! If the girl is always there, making him com-fortable, looking after him, being obviously devoted to the children—well,he gets to be dependent on her.”

I said quietly:

“So you do think that Elsie Holland is a designing hussy?”

Aimée Griffith flushed.

“Not at all. I’m sorry for the girl—with people saying nasty things! That’swhy I more or less told Megan that she ought to go home. It looks betterthan having Dick Symmington and the girl alone in the house.”

I began to understand things.

Aimée Griffith gave her jolly laugh.

“You’re shocked, Mr. Burton, at hearing what our gossiping little townthinks. I can tell you this—they always think the worst!”

She laughed and nodded and strode away.