THE CRIME AT TATTENHAM CORNER (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes
at the top of his form, I think? 'Fit as a fiddle,' Harker said."
"Yes, he was," Lady Burslem assented, apparently controlling her voice by a supreme effort. "Sir John was so proud of him. He used to say that when Peep o' Day won the Derby his greatest ambition would be realized. Now—now—"
The inspector coughed. "When you left Oxley, where did you go?"
"Why, we came straight home," Sophie said simply. "It was late, of course. We had stayed so long at Oxley, but we had told Ellerby and Forbes, my husband's man and my maid, not to sit up for us. We were never people who wanted a lot of waiting on. We always liked to do things for ourselves."
"What time was it?"
"I do not know—exactly." Sophie hesitated. "I should think it was between one and two. I know Sir John wanted James, the second footman, who sat up for us to sign some paper and he said it must be dated June 3rd."
"To sign a paper?" For once the inspector was betrayed into showing some surprise. "What sort of a paper?"
"Oh, I don't know." Lady Burslem let her hands drop helplessly on her lap. "He signed it too—Sir John. Then he gave it to me and told me to take care of it."
The inspector did not speak for a minute. He took out his notebook and made a hieroglyphic entry.
Lady Burslem leaned back in her chair motionless, her hands lying very still before her. And yet the inspector had an odd fancy that from beneath the heavy, swollen lids the brown eyes were furtively watching him.
At last he spoke:
"Could we see the paper, Lady Burslem? It might help us—might throw some light on the mystery."
"You can't see it just now," Lady Burslem said apathetically, "because I have not got it here. Mr. Weldon, the lawyer, came in this morning and took it away with him. He said it might be important."
The inspector drew his brows together. "I must see Mr. Weldon. In the meantime, when the paper was signed what did Sir John do?"
"As I told you, he gave me the paper," Lady Burslem said tonelessly. "Then we went into the library and we both had some of the things they had put ready for us. Then—then"—the tears sounded vibrant in the sweet voice—"he—Sir John—went out to take the car to the garage. I thought he would be only a few minutes; but now I shall never see him again."
"Why did Sir John take the car to the garage himself, instead of sending one of the men?" the inspector inquired brusquely.
For a moment he fancied that a faint smile glimmered on the pale lips.
"He—he would not have trusted any of them. He was so proud of the two-seater. It had all the latest improvements. He would not let anyone drive it but himself."
The inspector nodded. That there were men and women too who would not let anyone else drive their car, as there were people who would not allow their pet horse, their bicycle to be ridden by anyone else, he knew. But it seemed to him rather a curious fancy on the part of a millionaire, like Sir John Burslem, to insist on taking the car to the garage himself.
"But he did not take it to the garage," he said, rather as if he were answering his own thoughts. "He never went near the garage. The car has been found, you know, Lady Burslem."
"No, I did not," Lady Burslem said, with a momentary accession of interest. "I never heard anything about it. Where was it? Where—where he was?"
"No," the inspector answered bluntly. "It was found on a piece of waste ground on the other side of the river that is used as a parking ground sometimes."
"How did it get there?" Lady Burslem's voice dropped almost to a whisper.
"That," said the inspector grimly, "I should very much like to find out."
He opened his notebook again. "Has Sir John any enemies?" he asked, fixing a piercing glance on Lady Burslem.
"No, I am sure he had not," she said firmly. "Everybody liked him. He was a general favourite. He was so kind to every one."
"He had had no quarrel with anyone." The inspector's eyes were still watching closely.
"Certainly not!"
"Then," said the inspector very quietly, "you did not hear that a week ago he and Sir Charles Stanyard had a violent quarrel at Wilton's—so violent that the matter was to have been brought before the next Committee?"
The pallid face before him went suddenly scarlet, then rapidly white again.
"Oh, I knew that. Sir John told me there had been some sort of dispute. It was about their horses. I thought nothing of it."
"Naturally you would not," the inspector said in the characterless voice of his which Harbord knew meant that he was getting dangerous.
"But did Sir John tell you that the quarrel was about the racehorses?"
"Yes, yes; he said it was about their horses. Sir Charles owned Perlyon, you know, and he said he would beat Peep o' Day, and Sir John knew—knew he could not."
"And that was all?"
Again there was one of those very long pauses.
"Had Sir John and Sir Charles met since, Lady Burslem?"
"I don't know," Lady Burslem said listlessly. "I don't suppose I should have heard if they had."
"And yet Sir Charles was an old friend of yours—a neighbour of yours in the country," Stoddart suggested.
Again there was that momentary flood of crimson.
"I had not seen Sir Charles Stanyard for ages—until a few weeks ago, when we met accidentally at a dance. I danced with him then. I have not spoken to him since."
"Sir John made no objection to your dancing with him?"
"Certainly not!" There was a touch of hauteur now in the chilly tone. "I am perfectly ready to answer any questions that may help you to find out the cause of Sir John's death, inspector, but really I fail to see—"
"Be assured that I shall ask you no questions that are without some bearing on that subject, Lady Burslem."
The inspector's voice had a new note of sternness in it now.
"Then I am to understand that the last you saw of Sir John was when he left you ostensibly to take the car to the garage?"
"Absolutely the last!" Sophie Burslem assented, her fingers plucking restlessly at the handkerchief she still held, her brown eyes not looking up now, but mechanically following out the pattern of the carpet.
"And he said nothing to you of any intention to return to Oxley or any visit to Hughlin's Wood?"
"On the contrary, he said he should be only a few minutes away; the garage was only down the mews at the back of the house."
The inspector nodded. "And you, what did you do?"
"I went straight to bed." Lady Burslem looked straight at him now. "I was very tired and I wanted to be fresh for the races the next day. I went to sleep at once, and did not wake until my maid brought my tea."
"Quite natural," the inspector said. "Just one more point, and then I will not trouble you any more today. Sir John's relatives—I believe he had a brother and a daughter?"
"Both," Lady Burslem agreed. "The daughter—his, not mine—is abroad travelling in Italy with friends. The brother—you must have heard of him, the explorer—he is hunting about for buried cities or something in Tibet just now. We have cabled to his last known address and wired to Miss Burslem. She is on her way home."
"And the brother?"
"I am sure he will come when he gets the message," Lady Burslem said at once. "He is very charming, I know, though really I have seen very little of him. He was at my wedding. That is the only time I have seen him. The relations were rather strained between the two brothers: James married a variety actress, and although he did not get on very well with