Part 9 (1/2)

I beg your pardon?

I mean, wot's 'e do for a living?

I really couldn't say. His profession is no possible concern of mine.

Doesn't 'e fill in the usual form then? asked Beef aggressively.

Mrs. Murdoch rose with dignity to her feet, and pulled an ornamental bell-cord. On the appearance of the maid who had opened the door to us, she said, The Visitors' Book, Wilkins.

Beef decided to be pleasant. That's right, he said, I thought you must 'ave some record.

But Mr. Fairfax's record, when found, said only that he was British, coming from London, and by profession Company Promoter, a vague term.

Is 'e still 'ere? asked Beef.

No. Weren't you aware that he left yesterday?

Yesterday? Wot time?

He left the hotel with young Rogers at approximately two o'clock.

With young Rogers? 'Ere, this sounds interesting. Wot was 'e doing with young Rogers?

They had lunched together, here.

Wot about 'is wife?

She had left for London that morning.

So she 'ad. I'd forgotten that. So young Rogers was 'ere yesterday. Wot time did 'e get 'ere?

At one o'clock or so. Not later. Mr. Fairfax probably stressed the necessity for punctuality in this house.

Did 'e come on his motor-bike?

I believe so. There was a lot of noise in the drive.

You didn't see, then?

No. The motor-bicycle, if it was a motor-bicycle, was left round the bend of the drive.

You 'ad a look then, did you? Beef sounded almost roguish.

Mrs. Murdoch spoke loftily. I glanced from a window to see what all the noise was. I saw young Rogers walking up, having left his motorbike near the gate. Once before I had asked him not to make a fiendish noise under the windows with it. We have elderly persons and invalids here, who like to sleep during the afternoon.

Then 'e came in and 'ad 'is dinner with this 'ere Fairfax?

Lunch, yes.

And when did 'e go?