Part 31 (1/2)

”Oh, get out of here!” Sloane interrupted again. ”You've imposed on my daughter with your talk of being helpful, and all that rot, but you can't hoodwink me. What the devil do you mean by letting that sheriff come in here and subject me to all this annoyance and shock? You'd save us from unpleasantness!”

He spoke more slowly now, as if he cudgelled his brain for the most biting sarcasm, the most unbearable insolence.

”Don't realize the seriousness!--Flat-headed fiends!--Are you any nearer the truth now than you were at the start?--Try to understand this, Mr.

Hastings: you're discharged, fired! From now on, I'm in charge of what goes on in this house. If there's any trouble to be avoided, I'll attend to it. Get that!--and get out!”

Hastings, opening his mouth for angry retort, checked himself. He stood a moment silent, shaken by the effort it cost him to maintain his self-control.

”Humph!” Sloane's nasal, tw.a.n.gy exclamation was clearly intended to provoke him further.

But, without a word, he turned and left the room. Pa.s.sing the screen near the door, he heard Jarvis snicker, a discreet echo of Sloane's goading ridicule.

On his way back to the parlour, the old man made up his mind to discount Sloane's behaviour.

”I've got to take a chance,” he counselled himself, ”but I know I'm right in doing it. A big responsibility--but I'm right!”

Then he submitted this report:

”He says nothing new, Crown. Far as I can make out, nothing unusual waked him up that night--except chronic nervousness; he turned on that light to find some medicine; he knew nothing of the murder until Judge Wilton called him.”

”Humph!” growled Crown. ”And you fall for that!”

Hastings eyed him sternly. ”It's the statement I'm going to give to the reporters.”

The sheriff was silent, irresolute. Hastings congratulated himself on his earlier deduction: that Crown, unable to frighten Sloane into communicativeness, was thankful for an excuse to withdraw.

Hendricks had reported the two-hour conference between Crown and Mrs.

Brace late that afternoon. Hastings decided now: ”The man's in cahoots with her. His ally! And he won't act until he's had another session with her.--And she won't advise an arrest for a day or two anyway. Her game is to make him play on Sloane's nerves for a while. She advises threats, not arrests--which suits me, to a T!”

He fought down a chuckle, thinking of that alliance.

Crown corroborated his reasoning.

”All right, Hastings,” he said doggedly. ”I'm not going back to his room. I gave him his chance. He can take the consequences.”

”What consequences?”

”I'd hardly describe 'em to his personal representative, would I? But you can take this from me: they'll come soon enough--and rough enough!”

Hastings made no reference to having been dismissed by Sloane. He was glad when Crown changed the subject.

”Hastings, you saw the reporters this afternoon--I've been wondering--they asked me--did they ask you whether you suspected the valet--Jarvis?”

”Of what?”

”Killing her.”

”No; they didn't ask me.”

”Funny,” said Crown, ill at ease. ”They asked me.”