admission came unwillingly. She looked both guilty and terrified, but Inspector Neele was used to witnesses who looked like that. He went on cheerfully, trying to put her at her ease, asking questions: who had come down first? And who next?
Elaine Fortescue had been the first down to breakfast. Sheâd come in just as Crump was bringing in the coffee pot. Mrs. Fortescue was down next, and then Mrs. Val, and the master last. They waited on themselves. The tea and coffee and the hot dishes were all on hot plates on the sideboard.
He learnt little of importance from her that he did not know already. The food and drink was as Mary Dove had described it. The master and Mrs. Fortescue and Miss Elaine took coffee and Mrs. Val took tea. Everything had been quite as usual.
Neele questioned her about herself and here she answered more readily. Sheâd been in private service first and after that in various cafés. Then she thought sheâd like to go back to private service and had come to Yewtree Lodge last September. Sheâd been there two months.
âAnd you like it?â
âWell, itâs all right, I suppose.â She added: âItâs not so hard on your feetâbut you donât get so much freedom. . . .â
âTell me about Mr. Fortescueâs clothesâhis suits. Who looked after them? Brushed them and all that?â
Gladys looked faintly resentful.
âMr. Crumpâs supposed to. But half the time he makes me do it.â
âWho brushed and pressed the suit Mr. Fortescue had on today?â
âI donât remember which one he wore. Heâs got ever so many.â
âHave you ever found grain in the pocket of one of his suits?â
âGrain?â She looked puzzled.
âRye, to be exact.â
âRye? Thatâs bread, isnât it? A sort of black breadâgot a nasty taste, I always think.â
âThatâs bread made from rye. Rye is the grain itself. There was some found in the pocket of your masterâs coat.â
âIn his coat pocket?â
âYes. Do you know how it got there?â
âI couldnât say Iâm sure. I never saw any.â
He could get no more from her. For a moment or two he wondered if she knew more about the matter than she was willing to admit. She certainly seemed embarrassed and on the defensiveâbut on the whole he put it down to a natural fear of the police.
When he finally dismissed her, she asked:
âItâs really true, is it. Heâs dead?â
âYes, heâs dead.â
âVery sudden, wasnât it? They said when they rang up from the office that heâd had a kind of fit.â
âYesâit was a kind of fit.â
Gladys said: âA girl I used to know had fits. Come on anytime, they did. Used to scare me.â
For the moment this reminiscence seemed to overcome her suspicions.
Inspector Neele made his way to the kitchen.
His reception was immediate and alarming. A woman of vast proportions, with a red face armed with a rolling pin stepped towards him in a menacing fashion.
âPolice, indeed,â she said. âComing here and saying things like that! Nothing of the kind, Iâd have you know. Anything Iâve sent in the dining room has been just what it should be. Coming here and saying I poisoned the master. Iâll have the law on you, police or no police. No bad foodâs ever been served in this house.â
It was sometime before Inspector Neele could appease the irate artist. Sergeant Hay looked in grinning from the pantry and Inspector Neele gathered that he had already run the gauntlet of Mrs. Crumpâs wrath.
The scene was terminated by the ringing of the telephone.
Neele went out into the hall to find Mary Dove taking the call. She was writing down a message on a pad. Turning her head over her shoulder she said: âItâs a telegram.â
The call concluded, she replaced the receiver and handed