Part 5 (1/2)

The little man darted forward. Madge! he said before she had had time to descend, where have you been?

She was flushed and beaming, as though she had some jolly secret to communicate. Didn't you get my telegram?

Yes, but . . . staying away all night . . . I've been nearly off my head with worry. And something's happened. Something terrible. ....

Mrs. Rogers was on the platform now. What is it, Alf? Her smile had gone. And when her husband failed to answer. Something to do with Alan?

Mr. Rogers nodded. And as though to save us from being present while the painful disclosure was made, Sergeant Beef stepped forward.

Well, Mr. Rogers, he said, now as you've got your good lady back, I'll be trotting along. I told you she'd be 'ere all right now, didn't I? And he and I began to walk away, leaving the old man to break his tragic news. I'll pop round and see you this afternoon, Sergeant Beef called back, as we made for the ticket-collector.

After that the Sergeant went back to the station. He explained that he had a number of things to do in connection with routine. He had to make arrangements for the inquest, he said, and receive reports. He did not intend to start the real investigation until that afternoon, but he did not see why I shouldn't be present when he went to take statements. I thanked him for that concession with a smile. I knew his weakness for his large notebook, and guessed that he would like an audience during his ponderous questioning.

At two o'clock, therefore, we started out. Beef showed me a formidable list of people whom he intended to question.

Always as well to make a list of 'em, he said, then you don't forget no one. I remember the time I was investigating all that 'ow-d'ye-do down in Suss.e.x when they'd pinched the postmistress's bicycle, it was through someone as I'd clean forgot to put on my list that I found out about it. Only shows, doesn't it? Now the first I've got down to-day is that Molly Cutler wot came tearing into the pub last night just after young Rogers 'ad poisoned himself. She lives with 'er mother in an 'ouse out this way.

The house was semi-detached, but neat and pleasant, with a small square of well-kept garden to it, and fresh white blinds in its windows. The Sergeant marched up to the front door, and rang.

Miss Cutler herself opened it. She was pale and looked wretchedly ill, but she was quite calm.

Yes, she said, I expected you, Sergeant. Come in.

She led us to a front room in which a bright fire burnt, and there were chairs which looked as though covers had recently been removed from them. In a moment her mother had followed us into the room, a grey-haired person, very neatly dressed, who looked as though she disapproved of most things, but particularly of us.

Sit down, please, she said coldly. I should like to be present while you ask my daughter whatever you have to ask her.

Beef was already pulling out his notebook, and according to his habit he came with brutal bluntness to the point.

Was this young Rogers carrying on with you? he asked Molly Cutler.

I saw the old lady stiffen, but she said nothing.

We were engaged, the girl said quietly.

Secretly engaged, put in her mother, and without my consent.

Secretly engaged, repeated Beef, writing laboriously. When his pencil had finished its slow work, he looked up again.

'Ow long had this been going on? he asked.

It was during his last leave that we became engaged. About two months back.

Did you know of anyone he had a grudge against?

No. He wasn't a fellow to bear a grudge.

No one it would 'ave been in 'is interest to do away with?

No.