“Of course I have often heard of you and your colleague, Monsieur
Poirot. You have done some wonderful things together, haven’t you?
It was very clever of my husband to get you so promptly. Now will
you ask me questions? That is the easiest way, isn’t it, of getting
to know all you want to about this dreadful affair?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Havering. Now what time was it that this man
arrived?”
“It must have been just before nine o’clock. We had finished
dinner, and were sitting over our coffee and cigarettes.”
“Your husband had already left for London?”
“Yes, he went up by the 6.15.”
“Did he go by car to the station, or did he walk?”
“Our own car isn’t down here. One came out from the garage in
Elmer’s Dale to fetch him in time for the train.”
“Was Mr. Pace quite his usual self?”
“Absolutely. Most normal in every way.”
“Now, can you describe this visitor at all?”
“I’m afraid not. I didn’t see him. Mrs. Middleton showed him
straight into the gun-room and then came to tell my uncle.”
“What did your uncle say?”
“He seemed rather annoyed, but went off at once. It was about five
minutes later that I heard the sound of raised voices. I ran out
into the hall and almost collided with Mrs. Middleton. Then we
heard the shot. The gun-room door was locked on the inside, and we
had to go right round the house to the window. Of course that took
some time, and the murderer had been able to get well away. My poor
uncle”—her voice faltered—“had been shot through the head. I saw
at once that he was dead. I sent Mrs. Middleton for the police. I
was careful to touch nothing in the room but to leave it exactly
as I found it.”