“Not exactly, sir. I had opened the door of the drawing-room, but on thinking of Sir Charles I shut it again, thankful that I was able to do so before Mr. Littleton had time to interrogate me. I had not seen him when I glanced into the room.”
“One moment, Mr. Mills. I should like you to explain that point a little more fully. As I understand you, you opened the door, glanced in, and shut it hastily. Was the whole of the room visible to you from where you stood?”
“Not the whole of it, sir. The half-open door hid the wall between the drawing-room and the study from me. If Mr. Littleton had been standing close to that wall, I might not have seen him.”
The Commissioner glanced at Sir Philip, who nodded, almost imperceptibly. Then he addressed Mills sharply. “At the moment when you opened the door, you would have been surprised to find the room empty. Any suggestion that that was the case would have impressed itself upon you. Yet yon shut the door again without making further investigations?”
“I did. As I have explained, I was anxious to see Sir Charles before Mr. Littleton. I was still in the hall, when I heard a second crash, not dissimilar from the first. For a moment I thought it came from the study, and the thought flashed through my mind that Mr. Littleton, overhearing the departure of His Grace, might have carried out his threat, and entered the study un-announced through the door between that room and the drawing-room.”
The Commissioner interrupted him, this time without ceremony. “But that door is concealed by a bookcase, is it not?” he asked.
“On the study side, yes. The drawing-room is panelled, and the door is so arranged as to form one of the panels. It has no handle, but a concealed fastening, operated by sliding part of the framework of the panel.”
“In fact, a stranger would not perceive that it was a door at all?”
“Not at first sight, perhaps. But very little investigation would show him that the panel could be opened.”
Sir Philip began to show signs of impatience. “That, surely, is a matter which can be decided on the spot,” he said. “Please continue your narrative, Mr. Mills. Did you proceed to investigate the cause of this second crash?”
“I ran into my office, sir, and there, to my astonishment, found Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather. He was bending down and picking up a litter of papers which lay on the floor. The door leading into the waiting-room was open. Sir Charles, who appeared to be very much embarrassed, explained to me that he had entered the office to tell me that he could wait no longer. As he did so, he had stepped on a mat which had slipped beneath him on the polished floor. To save himself from falling he had clutched at a table which stood just inside the door, and on which was a wooden tray containing papers. This, however, had failed to save him, and he had fallen, dragging the table and tray down with him.”
“Would this have accounted for the crash you heard?” inquired the Commissioner. “It might have done so. In fact, it seemed to me at the time a likely explanation of the crash.” “You said just now that Sir Charles was wearing gloves when he entered the house. Was he still doing so?”
“Yes, he was. I noticed that as I dusted him down after his fall. A minute or two later, I escorted him through the hall to the front door, and immediately hurried back to the drawing-room.”
“Littleton’s turn had come, certainly,” remarked Sir Philip.
“That is what I thought, sir. My idea was to make one more effort to induce him to go away without seeing Lord Comstock, and if I failed, to introduce him. I walked into the drawing-room, to find it empty.”
“Upon my word, your visitors seem to have wandered about the house as if it was their own I” exclaimed Sir Philip. “There was no doubt this time that the room was really empty, I suppose? Littleton wasn’t hiding under the sofa? You can never tell what a policeman may do, you know.”
“The room was certainly empty, sir, and the concealed door into the study was shut. I could only conclude that Mr. Littleton had passed through it into the study. He had certainly not left the house, for his car was still in the drive when I saw Sir Charles off at the front door.”
“Where was Littleton’s car standing?” asked Sir Philip, glancing at the plan.
“A few yards south of the front door, sir. Almost immediately in front of the dining-room window. I went to the east window of the drawing-room, and looked out to see if the car was still there, and found that it was. A plot of grass, with a clump of tall beeches growing in it, hides the farther sweep of the drive from the windows of the house, sir. As I looked out I saw a big saloon car come out from behind it, and head for the gate. I recognized the driver as Sir Charles Hope-Fairweather, by the colour of his coat.
“A moment later, sir, I saw Mr. Littleton. He appeared round the north-east corner of the house, running as hard as he could across the lawn towards the front door. He jumped into his car, swung round the trees, and set off towards the gate at a reckless speed.”
“But this is most extraordinary, Mr. Mills. Where did you imagine that Littleton had come from?”
It seemed that Mills had prepared an answer to this question. At all events, his reply was ready enough. “I imagined that he must have left the house by the front door, and gone round on to the lawn, while I was helping Sir Charles to brush his clothes, sir. As soon as I had lost sight of Mr. Littleton’s car, I went back to my office.”
“You did not go into the study?” asked the Commissioner quickly.
“There was no reason to do so. Sir Charles and Mr. Littleton had gone, and I had no desire to disturb Lord Comstock unnecessarily. I certainly expected him to ring for me and inquire what Mr. Littleton had been doing on the lawn, since I thought he must infallibly have seen him. But, since he did not do so, I resumed my work.”
“Which had suffered considerable interruption,” Sir Philip remarked. “What time was it by then?”
“I glanced at the clock as I sat down, sir. It was then twenty-two minutes past twelve. I did not move from my chair again until about five minutes past one, when Farrant flung open the doors leaning into the study, and shouted to me to come in.”
“Ah, yes, the butler,” said Sir Philip thoughtfully. “Have you got him outside, Hampton? If so, he had better come in.”
The Commissioner went to the Private Secretary’s room and came out followed by an elderly man with a melancholy, almost morose, expression. It struck Sir Philip that Comstock had not been very fortunate in his choice of subordinates. Mills, in spite of his apparent candour, had not impressed him. There was a shifty look in his eyes that the Home Secretary did not quite like. And as for Farrant-well, there was nothing against him yet. But then, from all accounts, no self-respecting person would remain in Comstock’s household any longer than he could help. Sir Philip caught the Commissioner’s eye, and nodded slightly.
“Now, Farrant,” said the latter briskly, “I understand that you were the first to discover Lord Comstock’s death. How did this come about?”
“Punctually at one o’clock, sir, I came to inform his Lordship that lunch was on the table. I opened the study door, sir—”
“How did you reach the study, Farrant?” the Commissioner interrupted.
“I entered the hall by the service door from the kitchen, under the stairs, sir. The door of the study is nearly opposite. I opened this door, sir, and the first thing I saw was his Lordship lying on the floor by the window, with his chair half on top of him, sir. I ran up to him, thinking he had fallen over in a fit or something, sir. And then as soon as I looked at him and saw his head, I knew that he had been shot dead. And then I ran to the waiting-room and called Mr. Mills.”
“You knew that he had been shot dead, did you? And how did you know that?”
The sharp question seemed to confuse Farrant. “Why, sir, there was the wound, and the blood round it. And his Lordship was lying in a way he wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t been dead.”
“Yes, dead with a wound in his head, Farrant. But why shot dead?”
Farrant�
�s eyes strayed to the pistol, in full view on the Home Secretary’s desk. “I knew there was a pistol in the room, sir,” he replied confidently.
“Oh, you knew that, did you? When did you first see it there?”
Farrant glanced towards the chair in which Mills was sitting. “I saw it there yesterday evening, sir. I took the opportunity of tidying up the study then, since his Lordship had gone out to dinner.”
The Commissioner turned his attention to Mills. “Do you know where Lord Comstock dined last night?” he asked.
“I don’t. Certainly not at Hursley Lodge. He went out with the chauffeur in the car about seven, and did not come back till midnight. He was not in the habit of informing me of his movements unless for some definite purpose.”
“You appear to have examined Lord Comstock’s body fairly closely, Farrant?”
“I bent down to pick him up, sir, before I realized that he was dead.”
“Did you disturb it at all?”
“I moved the chair a bit to one side, sir, and I may have shifted the body slightly, but not so that one would notice it. And I dare say I pushed in the drawer an inch or two, so that I could get round to His Lordship.”
“What drawer was this, Farrant?”
“One of the drawers of the desk, sir, that was pulled nearly right out.”
The Commissioner looked at Easton. “You said nothing of this drawer being open in your report, Superintendent,” he said accusingly.
“When I entered the room, sir, all the drawers in the desk were shut, sir,” replied Easton positively.
“Well, having disturbed everything, you thought it time to call Mr. Mills,” continued the Commissioner. “Are you quite sure that you touched nothing else first?”
“Perfectly sure, sir,” Farrant replied.
“Was the drawer that Farrant mentions open when you came on the scene, Mr. Mills?”
“I did not notice it at the moment. I was too much concerned with Lord Comstock’s condition. I could see at a glance that he was dead. Immediately sent Farrant to the telephone in the hall, with orders to ring up the police-station.” “In the hall! Is there no telephone in the study, then?”
“An extension. The main instrument is in the hall.”
“The extension would have served the purpose equally well, I should have thought. Had you any reason for getting Farrant out of the room?”
“Well, yes, I had. I had noticed by then that one of the drawers of the desk was slightly open, and I knew it to be the one in which Lord Comstock kept documents of a highly confidential nature. Upon Farrant leaving the room, I opened the drawer wide, and found the documents it contained lying in great disorder. I looked them over rapidly, and then shut the drawer.”
“Have you any reason to suppose that any of the documents it should have contained were missing?”
“I do not know what documents it contained. But all those I found, though highly confidential, had passed through my hands at one time or another. But I have my own reasons for believing that it had contained something of an even more confidential nature.”
“I should like to hear those reasons, Mr. Mills.”
“I may be wrong. But, when I entered the study earlier in the morning to announce the arrival of His Grace, that drawer was wide open and Lord Comstock was bending over it. As soon as he heard me, he slammed it violently. I certainly got the impression, at the time, that there was something in it that he did not wish me to see. Something particularly private, other than the documents which had passed through my hands already, I mean.”
“Then, if your suspicions are correct, it would appear that those documents have been stolen,” said the Commissioner weightily. “That is, unless Lord Comstock himself removed them and placed them elsewhere. This incident of the drawer may prove to be of some importance. You appear to have been somewhat overzealous, Mr. Mills. You should have left the drawer as you found it. Did you touch anything else in the study before the arrival of the police?”
Mills shook his head. “Nothing whatever,” he replied sullenly.
At this Farrant, who had been listening attentively to the conversation, coughed decorously. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said. “But I think Mr. Mills has forgotten the telephone?”
The Commissioner turned upon him. “What do you mean, Farrant? What telephone?” “The private telephone, sir. Mr. Mills was using it when I came back from the hall.”
To Sir Philip, who had been a silent spectator of the scene, it had been apparent from the fist that there was no love lost between the secretary and the butler. His pencil moved more deliberately than ever as he awaited developments.
“Oh, so there is a private telephone,” said the Commissioner. “Where does it lead to?”
It was Mills who answered him. “Fort Comstock. Naturally it was my duty to ring up the chief editor, and inform him of Lord Comstock’s death. That was hardly touching anything in the study, in the sense you mean.”
“Did you speak to anybody at Fort Comstock besides the chief editor?”
Mills hesitated. “Well, yes,” he replied defiantly. “I spoke to the crime expert of the Daily Bugle, and gave him a short account of the events of this morning.
This statement fell like a bomb among the Scotland Yard contingent. Audible mutters came from the corner where Shawford and Churchill were sitting together, and it was only by an obvious effort that the Commissioner restrained himself. He contented himself with a glance at Sir Philip, on whose lips something very like a smile was visible. Then he turned to Farrant. “You overheard this conversation?” he asked sharply.
“A bit of it, sir. I wondered why Mr. Mills should take so much trouble to tell his Lordship’s people and nobody else.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, sir, Mr. Mills had been given notice by his Lordship,” replied Farrant malevolently. “I heard his Lordship tell him so at lunch yesterday. Something about selling information to rival newspapers, it was, sir.”
“Is this a fact, Mr. Mills?” the commissioner asked.
“It is certainly a fact that Lord Comstock threatened me with dismissal at lunch yesterday. He had just seen something in one of the rival papers which he believed to be known only to himself. He accused me of having sold this information for my own benefit. But I did not treat his outburst seriously. Similar incidents have occurred before.”
The Commissioner shrugged his shoulders. He had a feeling that the inquiry was straying from its proper course. In order to bring it back to realities he turned to Easton. “You made certain investigations outside the house, I believe? “he asked curtly.
“Yes, sir. I thought it possible that Lord Comstock might have been shot by somebody from outside the house, through the open windows of the study. As you can see by the plan, sir, there are no doors leading. from the house directly on to the lawn. The back doors lead out of the house on the opposite side. Anyone wishing to reach the lawn would have to pass through two gates, one leading into the kitchen garden, the other from the kitchen garden to the lawn. Alternatively, he would have to climb the wall at the south-eastern corner of the house. That is, of course, sir, if he did not pass round the front of the house.”
The Commissioner, who had been looking over Sir Philip’s shoulder at the plan on the desk, nodded. “Yes, I see; go ahead, Easton.”
“Well, sir, there were no marks on the flower-beds below this wall, and no sign of anyone having climbed it. It is seven feet high, and would be difficult to climb in any case, without assistance. The gate between the kitchen garden and the lawn was locked. It is a heavy wrought-iron affair, and I was informed that only two keys to this exist. One was produced by the gardener to whom I spoke. The other I found upon Lord Comstock’s desk.”
Sir Philip looked up. “It doesn’t look as if anybody had reached the lawn from that direction, does it, Easton?” he remarked pleasantly. “And yet we have heard of somebody “—there was a significant emphasis upon this word—” of someb
ody who appeared upon the lawn. He must have come round by the front of the house, I suppose?”
“I think not, sir,” replied Easton, glancing at the Commissioner. “The gardener—”
“Oh, the gardener has something to say, has he? Have you got him outside, Hampton? Bring him in, if so. We’ll hear his story from his own lips.”
So the gardener, an incongruous figure in that solemn room, was introduced. But his evidence tended to make things still more obscure. He had been working all the morning at the flower-beds beside the drive. Two or three motors had passed him, but he hadn’t taken any heed of them. He hadn’t expected his Lordship down that week, and he was late with the bedding-out. His Lordship had given him a proper dressing-down because there wasn’t a good show of flowers. He was too busy to take much notice of motor cars and such.
“But you would have noticed if anybody had walked on to the lawn, I suppose?” asked the Commissioner impatiently.
“I couldn’t very well help noticing the lady when she stopped and watched what I was doing. She didn’t say nothing, though, and I couldn’t say who she was. I don’t mind that I ever saw her before.”
Sir Philip looked up and caught the Commissioner’s eye. The fact that there was a lady in the case was a further complication. And it was very curious that neither Mills nor the butler had mentioned her presence. But the Commissioner was alert enough to display no surprise.
“Oh yes, the lady, of course,” he said rather vaguely. “Do you remember what time it was when you saw her?”
“Can’t say that I do, sir. I’d left my watch in my coat pocket in the potting-shed. But it was a fair time before Mr. Scotney came out just afore one to call me.”
“Mr. Scotney?” the Commissioner asked. “Who’s he?”
“Why, the chauffeur, to be sure, sir. He always gives me a call just afore one when I’m working round the front. And I saw the lady long before then.”
The Commissioner curbed his impatience. “Can’t you give me some idea of how long before? “he asked.
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