‘From Scotland Yard?’ repeated Vicky, turning a face of the deepest reproach towards Hugh. ‘What a viperous thing to do! Oh, I think you’re the most repellent creature I’ve ever met! In fact, not merely sub-human, but a snake and a traitor as well!’
‘One of your dramatic days, I see,’ said Hugh, quite unmoved. ‘Don’t mind the Inspector, will you? And get it out of your head that I sent for him: all I did was to give him a lift from the
village.’
‘Just when Ermyntrude’s been upset again!’ Vicky said. She looked critically at Hemingway, and suddenly bestowed an unexpectedly beguiling smile upon him. ‘Oh, I like you more than Inspector Cook! Has he told you about my being practically on the scene of the crime? Isn’t it ghoulish?’
‘He told me that you didn’t hear or see anything unusual,’ replied Hemingway diplomatically. ‘Nor yet your dog either.’ He glanced at the black ribbon which she had tied round her head to keep the feathery curls in position. ‘What I’m wondering is whether you happened to lose a hair-slide in the shrubbery at any time?’
‘No, I don’t wear them. I think they’re definitely unlovely. Do you want to see my mother?’
‘Yes, please. But are you quite sure this isn’t yours?’
Vicky looked at the hair-slide he was holding in the palm of his hand. ‘How touching! Absolutely Mother’s Good Girl, isn’t it? Not one of my acts.’
She evidently had no further interest in the slide, so the Inspector put it back in his pocket, and followed her into the house.
Ermyntrude was sitting in the drawing-room with Mary. A number of daily periodicals were piled untidily on a low table beside her, and as soon as she saw Hugh, she exclaimed: ‘Well, if you’re not the very person I was hoping would look in on us! To my mind, it’s practically libel, and if I can’t sue them there’s no justice in England. Look at that!’
Hugh took the newspaper that was being thrust at him. A most unflattering portrait of Prince Varasashvili met his eye, and nearly surprised a laugh out of him.
‘“Mrs Carter’s distinguished Russian guest”!’ quoted Ermyntrude bitterly. ‘If they’d said it was Mrs Carter’s boot-boy, it would have been more likely, except that I wouldn’t have a boot-boy that looked like a cross between an organ-grinder and a gangster! No, really, Hugh, I am put out! What’s more, Alexis particularly told them he was a Georgian, not that it makes a bit of difference to my mind, but you know how touchy foreigners are!’ She broke off, perceiving Hemingway, and demanded suspiciously: ‘Who’s that?’
‘Darling Ermyntrude, it’s an Inspector from Scotland Yard,’ said Vicky. ‘His name is Hemingway, and he’s rather a lamb, except for nourishing degrading suspicions about me.’
The Inspector was startled. ‘I never!’ he said. ‘Now, that’s not fair, miss!’
‘Hair-slides,’ said Vicky reproachfully. ‘I call that utterly degrading.’
‘Scotland Yard!’ ejaculated Ermyntrude, letting fall the second newspaper, which she had been holding out to Hugh. ‘Am I never to be left in peace? Haven’t I had enough to worry me? I wish to God Wally had never been shot!’
Inspector Hemingway at once won Hugh’s respect by his instant grasp of the situation. He responded promptly: ‘I’m sure I’m not surprised. But don’t you get thinking I’ve come to badger you, madam, because I’m a feeling man myself, and I know just how you feel. You’ve had reporters pestering you, have you? Regular body-snatchers, that’s what they are. So this is the Prince! Well, I must say I wouldn’t have thought it!’
Ermyntrude wrested the paper from his grasp. ‘It’s nothing like him! What’s all this about your suspecting my girl? I never heard of such a thing!’
‘That was just Miss Fanshawe trying to have a little game with me,’ replied the Inspector. ‘As a matter of fact, it wasn’t Miss Fanshawe I came to see. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, you either, madam, but I’m sure it’s a pleasure. Ever see that before?’ He held out the hair-slide as he spoke.
‘Nasty, cheap thing!’ said Ermyntrude, after a cursory glance at it.
‘Can I see it?’ asked Mary. ‘I sometimes wear one.’
The Inspector held it out to her. She looked at it, and shook her head. ‘No, it’s not one of mine. Who is it you wish to see, Inspector?’
‘The Prince, miss, if you please.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s no good my trying to stop you,’ said Ermyntrude. ‘The way you policemen behave, anyone would think the house belonged to you! Oh Hugh, you know all about the law! Have they got to go worrying Alexis? I can’t bear it if on top of everything else they get him all upset, which is what they very likely will do, for he’s very sensitive, and what with that photograph, and the papers getting his name wrong, and one of them calling him a Baron instead of a Prince, he’s very put-out already.’
‘I’m afraid,’ began Hugh, but broke off short, as the object of this discussion stepped in through the French window. ‘Here is the Prince, Inspector.’
The Prince’s smile faded; he threw up his hands, exclaiming: ‘Ah, not more police! It becomes too much! My poor Trudinka, you are distressed: they have been worrying you again! You should have sent for me immediately!’
‘I’m sure that’s just like you, Alexis, always so thoughtful and sweet to me!’ said Ermyntrude warmly. ‘I was going to send for you, too, because it’s you the Inspector wants to see.’
The Prince raised his brows. ‘Yes? I am at your disposal Inspector, though what more I can say I do not know. I have told all I know. I must confess I do not understand these English methods. What do you want with me?’
‘Well, I’d like a little chat with you alone, sir,’ said Hemingway.
‘I’m sure you needn’t be so anxious to keep me in the dark!’ said Ermyntrude. ‘I’d like to know who had a bigger right to know what’s going on! What’s more, I dare say I can answer your questions a lot better than the Prince can. It stands to reason!’