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By Root 465 0

went off and telephoned up to Ruby’s room, but apparently there was no answer, and he came back in rather a state—temperamental, you know. Josie went off with him and tried to soothe him down, and in the end she danced with him instead of Ruby. Rather plucky of her, because you could see afterwards it had hurt her ankle. She came back to us when the dance was over and tried to calm down Mr. Jefferson. He had got worked up by then. We persuaded him in the end to go to bed, told him Ruby had probably gone for a spin in a car and that they’d had a puncture. He went to bed worried, and this morning he began to agitate at once.” She paused. “The rest you know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jefferson. Now I’m going to ask you if you’ve any idea who could have done this thing.”

She said immediately: “No idea whatever. I’m afraid I can’t help you in the slightest.”

He pressed her. “The girl never said anything? Nothing about jealousy? About some man she was afraid of? Or intimate with?”

Adelaide Jefferson shook her head to each query.

There seemed nothing more that she could tell them.

The Superintendent suggested that they should interview young George Bartlett and return to see Mr. Jefferson later. Colonel Melchett agreed, and the three men went out, Mrs. Jefferson promising to send word as soon as Mr. Jefferson was awake.

“Nice woman,” said the Colonel, as they closed the door behind them.

“A very nice lady indeed,” said Superintendent Harper.

III

George Bartlett was a thin, lanky youth with a prominent Adam’s apple and an immense difficulty in saying what he meant. He was in such a state of dither that it was hard to get a calm statement from him.

“I say, it is awful, isn’t it? Sort of thing one reads about in the Sunday papers—but one doesn’t feel it really happens, don’t you know?”

“Unfortunately there is no doubt about it, Mr. Bartlett,” said the Superintendent.

“No, no, of course not. But it seems so rum somehow. And miles from here and everything—in some country house, wasn’t it? Awfully county and all that. Created a bit of a stir in the neighbourhood—what?”

Colonel Melchett took charge.

“How well did you know the dead girl, Mr. Bartlett?”

George Bartlett looked alarmed.

“Oh, n-n-n-ot well at all, s-s-sir. No, hardly at all—if you know what I mean. Danced with her once or twice—passed the time of day—bit of tennis—you know.”

“You were, I think, the last person to see her alive last night?”

“I suppose I was—doesn’t it sound awful? I mean, she was perfectly all right when I saw her—absolutely.”

“What time was that, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Well, you know, I never know about time—wasn’t very late, if you know what I mean.”

“You danced with her?”

“Yes—as a matter of fact—well, yes, I did. Early on in the evening, though. Tell you what, it was just after her exhibition dance with the pro fellow. Must have been ten, half-past, eleven, I don’t know.”

“Never mind the time. We can fix that. Please tell us exactly what happened.”

“Well, we danced, don’t you know. Not that I’m much of a dancer.”

“How you dance is not really relevant, Mr. Bartlett.”

George Bartlett cast an alarmed eye on the Colonel and stammered:

“No—er—n-n-n-o, I suppose it isn’t. Well, as I say, we danced, round and round, and I talked, but Ruby didn’t say very much and she yawned a bit. As I say, I don’t dance awfully well, and so girls—well—inclined to give it a miss, if you know what I mean. She said she had a headache—I know where I get off, so I said righty ho, and that was that.”

“What was the last you saw of her?”

“She went off upstairs.”

“She said nothing about meeting anyone? Or going for a drive? Or—or—having a date?” The Colonel used the colloquial expression with a slight effort.

Bartlett shook his head.

“Not to me.” He looked rather mournful. “Just gave me the push.”

“What was her manner? Did she seem anxious, abstracted, anything on her mind?”

George Bartlett considered. Then he shook his head.

“Seemed a bit bored. Yawned, as I said. Nothing more.”

Colonel Melchett said:

“And what did you do, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Eh?”

“What did you do