‘You ought to be grateful to me for swelling your audience,’ replied Hugh.
‘I must have people in sympathy with me,’ said Vicky. ‘All great artistes are like that.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ inquired Hugh unkindly.
The Inspector interrupted this exchange without ceremony. ‘You are Miss Victoria Fanshawe?’ he said.
‘Yes, didn’t you know? Only not Victoria, if you don’t mind, because I practically never feel like that.’
‘My information,’ pursued the Inspector relentlessly, ‘is that at the time of your stepfather’s death you were walking by the stream with your dog. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, and I definitely heard the shot, only I quite thought it was someone potting rabbits.’
‘Did you see anyone amongst the bushes, miss?’
‘No, but I don’t think I could have. They’re awfully thick by the stream. Besides, I didn’t look, and as a matter of fact I wasn’t paying any attention at all, until I heard Mr White’s voice, and Janet White sobbing. That’s what made me go down to the bridge.’
‘And this dog of yours, miss: he didn’t bark, or anything, as though he knew there was a stranger prowling about?’
Vicky shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t, which makes it look rather as though it wasn’t a stranger, now I come to think of it. Unless, of course, he kept jolly still, and Roy didn’t get wind of him.’
Ermyntrude said uneasily: ‘But, lovey, it can’t have been other than a stranger. Not anyone belonging to us, I mean, and it isn’t to be supposed any of our friends would go and do a thing like that.’
‘No, I worked it all out while I was changing,’ said Vicky. ‘I think Percy must have done it.’
‘Vicky, we don’t want to go into that!’ said Ermyntrude hurriedly. ‘It’ll be all over the country once anyone gets wind of it! Now, you hold your tongue, sweetie, like a good girl!’
‘Oh, darling, did you want me not to mention Percy? I’m so sorry, but I haven’t myself got any compunction, because he said he was the declared enemy of all our class, so that it seems awfully likely he did it.’
‘I must request you, miss, to give me a plain answer!’ said the Inspector, regarding her with such an alert expression on his face that Mary’s heart sank. ‘Who is this person you refer to as Percy?’
‘Well, he’s a Communist,’ said Vicky. ‘He’s Percy Baker, and he works at Gregg’s, in Burntside.’
‘What makes you suppose he might have had something to do with Mr Carter’s death? Had he got a grudge against him?’
‘Yes, but it’s a very sordid story,’ said Vicky softly. ‘You wouldn’t like to hear it from an innocent girl’s lips.’
‘I don’t mind whose lips – look here, miss, are you trying to make game of me? Because, if so—’
‘Oh no, no, no!’ faltered Vicky, looking the picture of scared virginity.
Ermyntrude arose majestically from the couch. ‘Is nothing sacred to you?’ she demanded of the Inspector. ‘Won’t you be satisfied until you’ve crucified me?’
‘No, I won’t – I mean, there’s no question of me doing anything of the sort!’ said the exasperated Inspector. ‘What I want, and what I’m going to have, is the truth! And I warn you, madam, you’re doing yourself no good by carrying on in this unnatural way!’
‘Don’t think that you can bully me!’ begged Ermyntrude. ‘I may look to you like a defenceless woman, but you’ll find your mistake if you try me too far!’
‘Oh, Aunt Ermy, do, do control yourself!’ said Mary wearily. ‘Percy Baker, Inspector, is the brother of a girl whom my cousin, I’m sorry to say, had got into trouble. But as all he wanted from my cousin was money, I can’t see why he should have killed him.’
‘No, that’s what I thought at first,’ agreed Vicky, ‘but I must say he did seem to me to be frightfully undecided about his racket, when I saw him. I wouldn’t wonder at all if he suddenly made up his mind to go all out for revenge, because he rather approves of massacring people, and thinks the French Revolution was a pretty good act, ’specially while the Terror lasted.’
‘The girl’s name and address?’ said the Inspector, holding his pencil poised above his notebook.
‘Well, we’re not, as a matter of fact, on calling-terms,’ said Vicky. ‘She works at the Regal Cinema, in Fritton.’
‘That’s right: brandish my shame over the whole countryside!’ said Ermyntrude, tottering back to the couch. ‘Pillory me as much as you like!’
‘Darling Ermyntrude, it isn’t your shame at all. You don’t mind my brandishing Gladys’s shame, do you?’