III

As Craddock and Fletcher went through the hall to the front door it wasflung open and a tall handsome young man almost collided with them.

“Sleuths as I live,” cried the young man.

“Mr. Patrick Simmons?”

“Quite right, Inspector. You’re the Inspector, aren’t you, and the other’sthe Sergeant?”

“You are quite right, Mr. Simmons. Can I have a word with you, please?”

“I am innocent, Inspector. I swear I am innocent.”

“Now then, Mr. Simmons, don’t play the fool. I’ve a good many otherpeople to see and I don’t want to waste time. What’s this room? Can we goin here?”

“It’s the so-called study—but nobody studies.”

“I was told that you were studying?” said Craddock.

“I found I couldn’t concentrate on mathematics, so I came home.”

In a businesslike manner Inspector Craddock demanded full name, age,details of war service.

“And now, Mr. Simmons, will you describe what happened last night?”

“We killed the fatted calf, Inspector. That is, Mitzi set her hand to mak-ing savoury pastries, Aunt Letty opened a new bottle of sherry—”

Craddock interrupted.

“A new bottle? Was there an old one?”

“Yes. Half full. But Aunt Letty didn’t seem to fancy it.”

“Was she nervous, then?”

“Oh, not really. She’s extremely sensible. It was old Bunny, I think, whohad put the wind up her—prophesying disaster all day.”

“Miss Bunner was definitely apprehensive, then?”

“Oh, yes, she enjoyed herself thoroughly.”

“She took the advertisement seriously?”

“It scared her into fits.”

“Miss Blacklock seems to have thought, when she first read that advert-isement, that you had had something to do with it. Why was that?”

“Ah, sure, I get blamed for everything round here!”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you, Mr. Simmons?”

“Me? Never in the world.”

“Had you ever seen or spoken to this Rudi Scherz?”

“Never seen him in my life.”

“It was the kind of joke you might have played, though?”

“Who’s been telling you that? Just because I once made Bunny an applepie bed—and sent Mitzi a postcard saying the Gestapo was on her track—”

“Just give me your account of what happened.”

“I’d just gone into the small drawing room to fetch the drinks when, HeyPresto, the lights went out. I turned round and there’s a fellow standing inthe doorway saying, ‘Stick your hands up,’ and everybody gasping andsquealing, and just when I’m thinking—can I rush him? he starts firing arevolver and then crash down he goes and his torch goes out and we’re inthe dark again, and Colonel Easterbrook starts shouting orders in his bar-rack-room voice. ‘Lights,’ he says, and will my lighter go on? No, it won’tas is the way of those cussed inventions.”

“Did it seem to you that the intruder was definitely aiming at Miss Black-lock?”

“Ah, how could I tell? I should say he just loosed off his revolver for thefun of the thing—and then found, maybe, he’d gone too far.”

“And shot himself?”

“It could be. When I saw the face of him, he looked like the kind of littlepasty thief who might easily lose his nerve.”

“And you’re sure you had never seen him before?”

“Never.”

“Thank you, Mr. Simmons. I shall want to interview the other peoplewho were here last night. Which would be the best order in which to takethem?”

“Well, our Phillipa—Mrs. Haymes—works at Dayas Hall. The gates of itare nearly opposite this gate. After that, the Swettenhams are the nearest.

Anyone will tell you.”