No Wind of Blame

‘Not very well. You ought to know that,’ Chester said, rather sternly.

‘Poor sweet, I’m afraid she won’t be until this is all over. Why didn’t you come to the Inquest? I quite thought you’d be there, though as a matter of fact it turned out to be frightfully stagnant.’

‘I couldn’t see that it concerned me,’ replied Chester. He nodded to the Inspector, told Vicky briefly not to agitate her mother, and left the house.

‘But why is Maurice so curt and unloving?’ wondered Vicky. ‘Did you annoy him, Inspector? And, I say, what are you doing here? Or can’t you tell me?’

‘Oh, there’s no secret about what I’m doing,’ responded Hemingway. ‘I’m trying to discover who could have taken that rifle out of the house, and not getting much help either.’

‘I’ll help you!’ offered Vicky. ‘Practically anyone could, I should think.’

‘Yes, that’s a lot of use,’ said the Inspector.

‘Well, I could have,’ she suggested. ‘Easily! The only thing is that I’ve never shot with it, so I shouldn’t think I’d have managed to kill my stepfather.’

‘Tell me this, miss!’ said the Inspector suddenly. ‘When you heard that shot, just exactly where were you?’

‘Oh, I was round the bend in the stream! And I didn’t hear or see anyone, and my dog didn’t bark, or cock his ears, or anything, and have I got to say it all over again?’

‘Didn’t you think it was a bit odd, anyone shooting in the shrubbery?’

‘No, because actually I didn’t think about it. You often hear shots in the country, you know, and it might easily have been Mr White, or someone, shooting a rabbit.’

‘You weren’t within sight of the bridge?’

‘No, round the bend. I told you. And then I wandered up one of the paths, climbing the hill, and it wasn’t till I heard Janet crying, that it dawned on me that something had gone wrong. But why on earth you worry about me when you’ve got the Prince right under your nose, absolutely asking to be arrested, I can’t imagine. He could have taken the rifle as easily as I could.’

‘Not on Sunday afternoon,’ said Mary, who had just come out of the drawing-room.

‘Darling Mary, are you trying to send me to the gallows?’ asked Vicky reproachfully.

‘Of course I’m not, but one must be fair, and I saw the Prince leave the house on Sunday afternoon.’

‘If he did it,’ said Vicky, ‘he’d laid his plans long before Sunday. Probably on Saturday.’

‘Did he go into the gun-room on Saturday?’ asked Hugh.

‘Yes, of course he did. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he took the rifle at dead of night, and hid it somewhere. In fact, it would be a good thing to assume that he did, and then work it out from that point.’

‘If you don’t mind my putting in a word, miss, before you take the gentleman’s character clean away,’ said the Inspector mildly, ‘I would like to point out that according to all the evidence I’ve heard so far, Mr White didn’t invite your stepfather until Sunday morning.’

‘Oh well, we can easily get round that!’ replied Vicky. ‘I expect Alexis just hid the rifle in case it should come in handy. After all, my stepfather was bound to go out for a stroll sometime or other, and I do definitely feel that Alexis is a very thoughtful person and would have had everything ready just on the off-chance.’

This was too much, even for the Inspector, and he looked round for his hat. Mary said: ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk in that irresponsible way, Vicky! It’s absolutely actionable!’

‘Oh, is it? Could I be had up for libel, or something?’ asked Vicky, her eyes brightening.

‘Now look what you’ve done!’ said Hugh, addressing Mary. ‘No, Vicky, no! Don’t start seeing yourself in the witness-box, causing strong jurymen to shed tears of pity for you!’

‘Yes, it strikes me that you’re just about as bad as she is, sir,’ said Hemingway severely, and left them.

Mary found herself to be so much in agreement with this pronouncement, that instead of inviting Hug

h to stay to lunch, she asked somewhat crossly if he had come to Palings for any particular purpose.

‘Only to return Sarah Bernhardt to the bosom of her family,’ he replied. ‘The lady’s car died on her.’

‘Yes, and I quite think I went over rather well with your father,’ said Vicky, ‘which is a thing I didn’t expect, because he didn’t take to me in the least when I was being a Girl of the Century. Mary, you were too utterly right not to go to the Inquest! It was wholly spurious.’