“Oh. Any complaint from you?”
“Not at all, sir.” Blunt was earnest. “I have nothing to complain of, I’m sure.”
Reggie sat silent, watching him for a moment. Blunt looked away and stroked his straggling, brown beard with a hand that twitched. The unsteady eyes confessed pain and fear. “That’s all I was going to ask you,” said Reggie.
“Thank you, sir,” Blunt stood up, clumsily bowing and smiling. “You won’t require my daughter?”
“Get out. Clear off,” the inspector snapped and he shuffled away. “Snivelling humbug,” said the inspector. “He’s always done that sob - stuff as long as I’ve known him. You trapped him nicely about taking his poor rheumatic knee for a night walk this weather, Mr. Fortune.”
“You think so?” Reggie looked at him under drooping eyelids. “Well, well. Now I want to talk to Miss Blunt.”
She came in vehemently, and shot at them the question, “Where is my father? What have you done with him?”
“That’s not your business,” the inspector told her. “You’re here to answer questions, not ask ‘em.”
“I shan’t answer a word till I know where he is,” she cried. She stood before them, a slight, tense shape of a woman, her face white, her nostrils quivering to quick breath, her gleaming eyes so dilated that they seemed black.
“Now, Miss Blunt, taking things this way won’t do him any good,” said Bell. “Sit down, please.”
She pushed the chair which he offered back on him, compressed her pale lips, and stared defiance.
“Yes. Unwise, but quite natural,” Reggie said. “Your father has gone home. Or he’s waiting for you outside. And now you can listen to me. He says he has some rheumatism.”
“Of course he has,” she said fiercely. “He’s only just out. He couldn’t move his leg for a week.”
“Too bad. What did the doctor say about it?”
“We can’t afford doctors.”
“That’s very hard. I don’t think he should have gone for a walk in the cold of Sunday night.”
“What do you know about it? Exercise is the only thing that does his knee any good.”
“Well, well.” Reggie sighed. “Stern treatment. However. When did you go to your allotment first after Sunday night?”
“You saw me yourself. You were there when that brute of a policeman sent us away.”
“Oh, yes. That was on Tuesday morning. But you’d been there between Tuesday and Sunday. And you were there with a man who limped. A man who left some blood behind in the hut. And the blood was the same sort as the blood on the bandage of your father’s thumb. You’d much better tell me the truth, Miss Blunt.”
She took a step forward; she looked from one to other of the three of them with sneering fury. “You tricky, lying bullies. Yes, that’s what you are, and you know it. Faking up false witness against a man because you’ve got a down on him and you think he’s too weak to help himself. Oh, there’s no prison got such dirty crooks in it as you police. You had my father here, and made believe you wanted to be kind to him, and had a doctor to dress his thumb - just for you to take the old bandage with the blood on it and then pretend you found the blood somewhere else. So you could fix this burglary on a poor, sick man. Oh, thank God, there’s hell waiting for such as you.”
“Yes. ‘There may be heaven, there must be hell,’” Reggie said. “But you’re too quick, Miss Blunt. I didn’t say that your father was the man who limped to the hut and left some blood there. That was your idea.”
She flushed, she gulped. “You liar,” she said, trembling. “You cunning liar. You haven’t trapped me like that. I said father wasn’t there, not on Sunday nor Monday nor Tuesday, not till these brutes let us go.”
“Yes. I agree. That’s what you said. No trap. But you mustn’t pretend I said what I didn’t. I should say that you went to the hut by yourself early on Monday morning, and when you got there you found a man lying inside on the coco - nut matting. He was a man who had tumbled in there with a damaged leg and a bleeding arm. Rather a tall man, with black hair, but his skin was white, fair complexion altogether. Had he blue eyes or grey? Well, anyway, he had long legs, and small narrow feet for a man. He was pretty well all in when you found him. He couldn’t move except at a snail’s pace. His right ankle was sprained, wasn’t it? You talked to him. He told you he was down and out and being hunted by the police. You sympathised. You would sympathise. You brought him some food and some milk, and tied up his arm with the same sort of cotton stuff that you’d used to bandage your father’s thumb. And in the dusk of Monday a car came and took the wounded warrior away. I should say you sent his message for the car. Now, that man was the fellow who did the burglary at Mr. Goldschild’s. But, as you’ve managed the business, all the suspicion is on your father. That’s what you have to think about now, Miss Blunt.”
She had listened intently, her white, fierce face showing them nothing but rage. “It isn’t true,” she cried. “There’s no suspicion of father except in your beastly minds. You haven’t any evidence against him at all, and now you’ve confessed it. You’re just trying to trick me into telling lies against your lies. I won’t do it. Think yourselves so clever! You’ve shown me all your dirty games now. You won’t get another word out of me.”
“Come on,” the inspector spoke loudly, “cut out all that bluff. We know too much about you. If you aren’t straight with me now I’ll see you - -”
“That’ll do, George.” Bell stopped him. “Now, Miss Blunt, I’m asking you to tell me exactly what you did from Sunday night onwards to Monday night.” He waited. She stood silent, sneering at him. “I take it, you refuse. Then you can go now. My advice to you is, go and see a lawyer.” She laughed. “Show the lady out, George.” He followed her and the inspector. They were gone some time. When they came back, Reggie had a foot on each side of the fire, and was bent over it, smoking a pipe.
“Do you know what I’ve been doing, sir?” Bell grinned.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Reggie spoke through closed lips. “Muck of a case.”
“I’ve phoned ‘em to dig out the Smiler.”
