Patricia Wentworth - Mr. Zero

Colonel Anstruther pushed back his chair with a jerk.

“Oh, have him in-have him in! It’s a crazy case, if you ask me.”

The Inspector made for the door, but stopped with his hand on it. Mr. Brook was speaking.

“Perhaps we had better see Mr. Brewster first. Mr. Lushington will be wanting to get back to town. If you have no objections, Colonel Anstruther-”

Colonel Anstruther had no objection, and presently Mr. Brewster came in.

Before the door was shut Dr. Hammond was up and taking his leave.

“I’d like to stay, but I’ve got to go. Twins at Railing, and a broken leg out at Oldmeadow. And it’s Sunday evening. What a life!”

When he was gone Colonel Anstruther turned to Mr. Brewster.

“Sit down, won’t you? We won’t keep you long, but we think you may be able to help us.”

“Anything I can do.” Mr. Brewster registered an earnest desire to be helpful.

“Naturally. I believe you and Mr. Somers left the drawing-room together after tea.”

“Oh, yes, Colonel Anstruther, we did.”

“Did you happen to notice the time?”

“Oh, yes-I glanced at my watch. It was twenty minutes past five. I thought Mr. Lushington-”

“Yes, yes!” Colonel Anstruther’s tone was testy. “Can you tell us what happened after you left the room?”

Mr. Brewster assumed an intent expression.

“Yes, I can, Colonel Anstruther. And I assure you that I shall take great pains to be accurate. We came out of the drawing-room together-that is, Mr. Somers and I came out of the drawing-room-and when we had got about half way across the hall-I think it was just about half way, but it may not have been quite as much-the butler came towards us from the direction, or what I now understand to be the direction, in which the domestic offices are situated.”

“What? You saw Sturrock after you left the drawing-room?”

“If that is his name. We saw the unfortunate man who is the subject of the present enquiry.”

“Bless my soul!” said Colonel Anstruther. “Make a note of that, Boyce. Well, that narrows down the time considerably. You saw Sturrock alive at twenty past five, and William found him dead at five-and-twenty to six. Well, go on, sir. What was he doing?”

“He approached us,” said Mr. Brewster, speaking in his precise way, “and he informed Mr. Somers that he was wanted on the telephone.”

“ What ?”

“I will endeavour to give you his exact words. To the best of my recollection he said, speaking to Mr. Somers, ‘There’s a London call for you, sir. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking it in my pantry as the gentlemen are using the study.’ ”

“Go on,” said Mr. Brook. “What happened after that?”

The Inspector wrote at Sir Francis Colesborough’s table.

Mr. Brewster cast an interested glance at him and continued his narrative.

“Mr. Somers disappeared in the direction from which the butler had come. I then enquired where it would be convenient for me to wait until Mr. Lushington had finished his conversation with Mr. Brook, and the butler indicated a room he called the Parlour. It is reached by a passage on the opposite side of the hall behind the drawing-room.”

“Yes, yes!” Colonel Anstruther was impatient. “Did Sturrock accompany you along this passage?”

“No-he merely indicated the room.”

“You went there?”

“I did.”

“And remained there?”

“I remained there until about a quarter to six, when I thought I had really better make sure that Mr. Lushington was still engaged. I found the house in a turmoil, and was informed that the butler had shot himself.”

“That,” said Mr. Brook, “is by no means certain.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Brewster expressed a mild surprise.

“The Parlour is some way off,” said Colonel Anstruther. “Did you see anyone at all during the time you were there?”

“No.”

“Or hear anything? You didn’t hear the shot?”

“Oh, no, sir. I think it would have been quite impossible to do so, having regard to the distance-”

“Yes, yes! Well, I think that’s all-eh, Mr. Brook? I don’t think we need keep you any longer, Mr. Brewster, and I don’t think we need detain Mr. Lushington if he wants to be off. Boyce, will you ask Somers to come here?”

Algy Somers came into the room somewhat heartened by the fact that Monty had just clapped him on the shoulder and bidden him brace up. There had been real warmth in voice and manner. And he had always thought Monty rather a cold fish. It only showed that you never could tell.

He took the chair which Mr. Brewster had vacated, but experienced none of his desire to be helpful. He felt an extraordinary distaste for the whole thing, an extraordinary mental fatigue. Through this fatigue came the conviction that the hostility he had encountered before had sensibly increased, and that they were all watching him as if they expected something to happen. He didn’t know what.

Colonel Anstruther led off with the same question as before.

“You left the drawing-room with Mr. Brewster. Did you notice the time?”

“Brewster did,” said Algy. “He said it was twenty past five.”

“Mr. Brook corroborates that. He went in as you came out, and he looked at the clock in the hall. Now, Mr. Somers, will you tell us just what happened after you left the room?”

“Yes,” said Algy. “Sturrock came through the baize door beyond the dining-room and said I was wanted on the telephone. He said it was a trunk call and would I mind taking it in the pantry.”

“Yes?” said Mr. Brook.

“I went through and took off the receiver. There was no one on the line. I tried to get the exchange, but they seemed to be asleep. When I did get them they said they didn’t know anything about a trunk call. I hung up and came back into the hall.”

“One minute, Mr. Somers-how long did this take?”

“I can’t say-two minutes-three-it always seems a long time when you’re trying to get the exchange.”

“And you say you returned to the hall?”

“Yes, I came back into the hall.”

“Meeting Sturrock on the way?”

“No, I didn’t see him again.”

“You’re sure he didn’t come back into the pantry while you were at the telephone?”

“Oh, quite sure.”

“And he wasn’t in the hall when you got back there?”

“Not a sign of him.”

“What did you do next, Mr. Somers?”

“I went upstairs,” said Algy. Like a cold wind the thought went over him that no one had seen him go.

Mr. Brook’s voice echoed the thought, inverting it, putting it to him as a question.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs? Did you meet anyone?”

“Not a soul, I’m afraid.”

“What did you do when you got up there?”

“I went to my room.”

“Yes?”

“I stayed there until I heard a commotion in the house. Then I came down, and someone, one of the footmen, told me Sturrock had shot himself.”

“How long were you in your room?” said Colonel Anstruther.

“I couldn’t say exactly, sir-about ten minutes.”

There was a pause. Then the Chief Constable said,

“Listen to me, Mr. Somers. The theory that this man Sturrock committed suicide is not borne out by the medical evidence. It is a very convenient theory, but it won’t hold water. Very disappointing for the person who shot him, but there it is. It is our business to find out who did shoot him. Now here are the facts. Sir Francis Colesborough owned a pair of pistols. He kept one of them in that drawer-second on the right, wasn’t it, Boyce?-and there is no evidence as to where he kept the other. Sturrock thought he kept them both there. Pity we didn’t press the point at the time, but it wasn’t of any special importance then-now of course it is. Sir Francis was shot with one of the pair, and Sturrock with the other. Now, supposing the second pistol to have been in that drawer, who had access to it before the police arrived last night?”