Who? Part 42

"It's no use, my lord. We know that Priscilla Prentice bought this bag a fortnight ago in Newhaven. Now, if you are able to explain how it came into your possession, I would strongly advise your doing so."

Still Cyril did not flinch.

"I have never to my knowledge laid eyes on the girl, and I cannot, therefore, believe that a bag of hers has been found here."

"We can prove it," replied the inspector. "The maker's name is inside and the man who sold it to her is willing to swear that it is the identical bag. One of our men has made friends with your chamber-maid and she confessed that she had discovered it stuffed up the chimney in your bedroom. She is a stupid girl and thought you had thrown it away, so she took it. Only afterwards, it occurred to her that you had a purpose in placing the bag where she had found it and she was going to return it when my man prevented her from doing so."

"Very remarkable! It all fits together like clock-work. I congratulate you, Inspector," said Cyril, trying to speak superciliously. "But you omitted to mention the most important link in the chain of evidence you have so cleverly forged against me," he continued. "How am I supposed to have got hold of this bag? I did not stop in Newhaven and you have had me so closely watched that you must know that since my arrival in England I have met no one who could have given it to me."

"No, my lord, we are by no means sure of this. Quite the contrary. It is true that we have, so to speak, kept an eye on you, but, till yesterday, we had no reason to suspect that you had any connection with the murder, so we did not think it necessary to have you closely followed. There have been hours when we have had no idea where you were."

"You surprise me!"

"It is quite possible," continued the inspector without heeding Cyril's interruption, "that you have met either Prentice or Lady Wilmersley, the dowager, I mean."

"Really! And why should they have given this bag to me, of all people?

Surely you must see that they could have found many easier, as well as safer, ways of disposing of it."

"Quite so, my lord, and that is why I am inclined to believe that it was not through either of them that the bag came into your possession. I think it more probable that her Ladyship brought it with her."

"Her Ladyship? What do you mean?" Cyril's voice grew suddenly harsh.

"You told me yourself that her Ladyship met you in Newhaven; that, in fact, she had spent the night of the murder there."

Cyril clutched the table convulsively.

Amy! They suspected Amy. This was too horrible! Why had it never occurred to him that his lies might involve an innocent person?

"But this is absurd, you know," he stammered, in a futile effort to gain time.

"Let us hope so, my lord."

"There has been a terrible mistake, I tell you."

"In that case her Ladyship can no doubt easily explain it."

"Her Ladyship is ill. She cannot be disturbed."

"I am afraid that cannot be avoided. I must see her at once. But if you wish it, I will not question her till she has been examined by our doctors."

Cyril rose and moved automatically towards the door.

The inspector stepped forward.

"Sorry, my lord, but for the present you can see her Ladyship only before witnesses. May I ring the bell?"

"What is the use of asking my permission? You are master here, so it seems," exclaimed Cyril. His nerves were at last getting beyond his control.

"I am only doing my duty and I a.s.sure you that I want to cause as little unpleasantness as possible."

A servant appeared.

The inspector remained discreetly in the background.

"Ask her Ladyship please to come here as soon as she can get ready. If she is asleep, it will be necessary to wake her."

"Very good, my lord."

The two men sat facing each other in silence.

Cyril was hardly conscious of the other's presence. He must think; he knew he must think; but his brain seemed paralysed. There must be a way of clearing his wife without casting suspicion on Anita. Yet he could think of none. Was it possible that he was now called upon to choose between the woman he hated and the woman he loved, between honour and dishonour? No, there must be a middle course. Time would surely solve the difficulty.

The door opened and Amy came slowly into the room. She looked desperately ill.

She was wrapped in a red velvet dressing-gown and its warm colour contrasted painfully with the greyness of her face and lips. On catching sight of the inspector, she started, but controlling herself with an obvious effort, she turned to her husband.

"You wish to speak to me?"

"You can see for yourself, Inspector, that her Ladyship is in no condition to be questioned," remonstrated Cyril, moving quickly to his wife's side.

"Just as you say, my lord, but in that case her Ladyship had better finish her dressing. It will be necessary for her to accompany me to headquarters."

"I will not allow it," cried Cyril, almost beside himself and throwing a protecting arm around Amy's shoulders.

Her bloodshot eyes rested a moment on her husband, then gently disengaging herself, she drew herself to her full height and faced the inspector.

"What is the matter? You need not try to spare me."

"His Lordship----"

"Do not listen to his Lordship. It is I who demand to be told the truth."

"Amy, I beg you--" interposed Cyril.

"No, no," she cried, shaking off her husband's hand. "Let me know the worst. Don't you see that you are torturing me?"

"There has been a mistake. It is all my fault," began Cyril.

She silenced him with an imperious gesture.

"I am waiting to hear what the inspector has to say."

Griggs cast a questioning look at Cyril, which the latter answered by a helpless shrug.

"A bag has been found in his Lordship's chimney, which was lately purchased in Newhaven. Do you know how it got there? But perhaps before answering, you may wish to consult your legal adviser."

She cast a quick glance at her husband.

"I will neither acknowledge nor deny anything until I have seen this bag and know of what I am accused," she answered after a barely perceptible pause.