No Wind of Blame

‘It’s the new kettle!’ said Janet, in very much the tone that Hugh felt convinced the Mad Hatter must have used in discussing the effect of the best butter upon his watch.

‘Very unfortunate, miss, I’m sure, but hardly to be wondered at,’ said the Inspector. ‘And after you said you’d go and make the tea, what did you do?’

‘Oh, I don’t remember! I just got up out of my chair, and sort of stood, I think. And then my father spoke about the cigarettes. Or was that before?’

‘Was Mr White with you at the tea-table at that moment, then?’

‘Yes, he was sitting in the basket-chair, talking to Mr Jones. Then he said that about the cigarettes—’

‘I beg pardon, miss, but I don’t quite get this bit about the cigarettes,’ said the Inspector, with unimpaired patience. ‘You’ll understand I don’t want you to tell me what isn’t relevant. Of course, if the cigarettes have got any sort of bearing on the case, or perhaps help you to remember just what happened, that’s different.’

‘Oh no, they haven’t anything to do with it! I mean, how could they have? It was only that my father was annoyed at my having forgotten to bring out a box, and, of course, I said I’d run and fetch them at once, only he said not to bother, and he’d get them himself, or something like that. And he got up and went over to the study window, and leaned in to get the box on his desk, and I suppose Mr Jones was speaking to me, only I don’t really remember, though if he hadn’t been I should have gone in to make the tea, so I’m sure he must have been. And I was standing by the table, looking down here, not thinking a thing, except that I’d forgotten to oil the hinge of the gate – of course, it’s really Mrs Carter’s gate, but she can’t hear it from her house, because it’s further away than ours—’

‘Good Lord, girl, can’t you stick to the point?’ exclaimed White. ‘Get on with it, for Heaven’s sake!’

‘Yes, father,’ Janet said submissively. ‘Only I’m so upset, and I don’t want to keep anything back.’

‘That’s all right, miss,’ said the Inspector. ‘You were standing looking down here. Now, where would Mr Carter have been then?’

‘Oh, he was coming across the bridge. I remember that distinctly, because he didn’t bother to shut the gate after him. He never does. And then all of a sudden I heard a shot, and saw poor Mr Carter sort of collapse. It was awful!’

‘You didn’t see anyone, or notice any movement in all this shrubbery?’ asked the Inspector, looking round with disfavour upon his leafy surroundings.

‘Oh no, nothing like that! For a moment I simply didn’t realise it. I mean, I hadn’t an idea of anything like that happening.’

‘No, miss. And did you notice where the shot seemed to come from?’

‘Not at the time, because I was too shocked to think, only now I feel sure it must have come from somewhere there,’ Janet said, indicating the shrubbery that stretched up to the Dower House.

The Inspector did not appear to be much gratified by this somewhat dubious testimony. White cast a look of withering contempt at his daughter, and said in an exasperated tone: ‘You were asked what you noticed at the time, not what you feel sure of now. Sorry, Inspector: my daughter’s a bit upset. Though, as a matter of fact, I believe she’s right. I had a distinct impression of a shot being fired from somewhere in that direction.’

The Inspector transferred his attention to him. ‘And you were standing just where, sir?’

‘By my study window. You can’t see it from here – it’s behind that clump of azaleas – but I’ll show you.’

The Inspector turned to stare at the sombre mass of rhododendron bushes. ‘Those shrubs stretch as far as the road?’ he asked.

‘Yes, on both sides of the stream. Only it’s a much bigger plantation on the Palings’s side, of course. The road goes off to the right over the bridge across the stream, you know, skirting Mrs Carter’s grounds. We’re only about fifty yards from the road here.’

The Inspector nodded. ‘We’ll look into that presently, sir. Now, when Miss White screamed, what did you do?’

White gave a wry grin. ‘As a matter of fact, I asked her what the devil was the matter. She gasped out something about Carter’s being shot, and I naturally hurried up to see. Both she and Mr Jones were gaping – staring, down here. I told them both to pull themselves together, and ran down on to the bridge.’

‘Just a moment, sir. I take it Mr Carter wasn’t lying the way he is now?’

‘No, of course he wasn’t. I raised him in my arms, to see where he was hurt, and afterwards gave him to Mr Jones to support, while I dashed to the telephone. I suppose Mr Jones laid him down like that.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Jones, edging forward a little. ‘And I put my coat under his head, just as you see, Inspector. And if it isn’t needed any more, I’d be glad—’

‘In a moment, sir,’ said the Inspector severely. ‘I shall be coming to you presently. Can you describe to me, Mr White, how you found Mr Carter’s body?’

‘Well, I don’t know that I can exactly. He was lying in a sort of heap, more or less across the bridge, facing towards the house – my house, I mean.’

‘I see, sir. And when you realised Mr Carter had been shot, did either you, or Mr Jones, think to look in the thicket there?’

‘I don’t know what Mr Jones thought of: I certainly didn’t,’ replied White. ‘All I thought of was to get a doctor as quickly as I could, in case Mr Carter was still alive.’

‘Very proper, I’m sure, sir,’ the Inspector said, and turned towards Hugh. ‘And now, sir, if you’d tell me where you were at the time of Mr Carter’s death?’