I hardly thought it likely that Mrs. Price Ridley had anything so
dramatic in view, but I did wonder what had taken her to the police
station. Had she really got evidence of importance, or that she thought
of importance, to offer? At any rate we should soon know.
We found Mrs. Price Ridley talking at a high rate of speed to a
somewhat bewildered looking police constable. That she was extremely
indignant I knew from the way the bow in her hat was trembling.
Mrs. Price Ridley wears what, I believe, are known as "Hats for
Matrons"--they make a specialty of them in our adjacent town of Much
Benham. They perch easily on a superstructure of hair and are somewhat
overweighted with large bows of ribbon. Griselda is always threatening
to get a Matron's hat.
Mrs. Price Ridley paused in her flow of words upon our entrance.
"Mrs. Price Ridley?" inquired Colonel Melchett, lifting his hat.
"Let me introduce Colonel Melchett to you, Mrs. Price Ridley," I said.
"Colonel Melchett is our Chief Constable."
Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me coldly, but produced the semblance of a
gracious smile for the Colonel.
"We've just been round to your house, Mrs. Price Ridley," explained the
Colonel, "and heard you had come down here."
Mrs. Price Ridley thawed altogether.
"Ah!" she said. "I'm glad _some_ notice is being taken of the
occurrence. Disgraceful, I call it. Simply disgraceful."
There is no doubt that murder is disgraceful, but it is not the word I
should use to describe it myself. It surprised Melchett too, I could
see.
"Have you any light to throw upon the matter?" he asked.
"That's your business. It's the business of the police. What do we pay
rates and taxes for, I should like to know?"
One wonders how many times that query is uttered in a year!
"We're doing our best, Mrs. Price Ridley," said the Chief Constable.
"But the man here hadn't even heard of it till I told him about it!"
cried the lady.
We all looked at the constable.
"Lady been rung up on the telephone," he said. "Annoyed. Matter of
obscene language, I understand."
"Oh! I see." The Colonel's brow cleared. "We've been talking at cross
purposes. You came down here to make a complaint, did you?"
Melchett is a wise man. He knows that, when it is a question of an
irate middle-aged lady, there is only one thing to be done--to listen
to her. When she has said all that she wants to say, there is a chance
that she will listen to you.
Mrs. Price Ridley surged into speech.
"Such disgraceful occurrences ought to be prevented. They ought not to
occur. To be rung up in one's own house and insulted--yes, insulted.
I'm not accustomed to such things happening. Ever since the War there
has been a loosening of moral fibre. Nobody minds what they say, and as
to the clothes they wear--"
"Quite," said Colonel Melchett hastily. "What happened exactly?"
Mrs. Price Ridley took breath and started again.
"I was rung up--"
"When?"
"Yesterday afternoon--evening to be exact. About half past six. I
went to the telephone, suspecting nothing. Immediately I was foully
attacked, threatened--"
"What actually was said?"
Mrs. Price Ridley got slightly pink.
"That I decline to state."
"Obscene language," murmured the Constable in a ruminative bass.
"Was bad language used?" asked Colonel Melchett.
"It depends on what you call bad language."
"Could you understand it?" I asked.
"Of course I could understand it."
"Then it couldn't have been bad language," I said.
Mrs. Price Ridley looked at me suspiciously.
"A refined lady," I explained, "is naturally unacquainted with bad
language."
"It wasn't that kind of thing," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "At first, I
must admit, I was quite taken in. I thought it was a genuine message.
Then the--er--person became abusive."
"Abusive?"
"Most abusive. I was quite alarmed."
"Used threatening language, eh?"
"Yes. I am not accustomed to being threatened."
"What did they threaten you with? Bodily damage?"
"Not exactly."
"I'm afraid, Mrs. Price Ridley, you must be more explicit. In what way
were you threatened?"
This Mrs. Price Ridley seemed singularly reluctant to answer.
"I can't remember exactly. It was all so upsetting. But right at the
end--when I was really _very_ upset, this--this--_wretch_ laughed."
"Was it a man's voice or a woman's?"
"It was a degenerate voice," said Mrs. Price Ridley with dignity. "I
can only describe it as a kind of perverted voice. Now gruff, now
squeaking. Really a very _peculiar_ voice."
"Probably a practical joke," said the Colonel soothingly.
"A most wicked thing to do, if so. I might have had a heart attack."
"We'll look into it," said the Colonel. "Eh, Inspector? Trace the
telephone call. You can't tell me more definitely exactly what was
said, Mrs. Price Ridley?"
A struggle began in Mrs. Price Ridley's ample black bosom. The desire
for reticence fought against a desire for vengeance. Vengeance
triumphed.
"This, of course, will go no farther," she began.
"Of course not."
"This creature began by saying--I can hardly bring myself to repeat
it--"
"Yes, yes," said Melchett encouragingly.
"'_You are a wicked, scandal-mongering old woman!_' Me, Colonel
Melchett--a scandal-mongering old woman. '_But this time you've gone
too far. Scotland Yard are after you for libel._'"
"Naturally, you were alarmed," said Melchett, biting his moustache to
conceal a smile.
"'_Unless you hold your tongue in future, it will be the worse for
you--in more ways than one._' I can't describe to you the menacing way
that was said. I gasped 'Who are you?' faintly--like that, and the
voice answered, '_The Avenger_.' I gave a little shriek; it sounded so
awful, and then--the person laughed. Laughed! Distinctly. And that was
all. I heard him hang up the receiver. Of course I asked the exchange
what number had been ringing me up, but they said they didn't know. You
know what exchanges are. Thoroughly rude and unsympathetic."
"Quite," I said.
"I felt quite faint," continued Mrs. Price Ridley. "All on edge and so
nervous that when I heard a shot in the woods I do declare I jumped
almost out of my skin. That will show you."
"A shot in the woods," said Inspector Slack alertly.
"In my excited state, it simply sounded to me like a cannon going off.
'Oh!' I said, and sank down on the sofa in a state of prostration.
Clara had to bring me a glass of damson gin."
"Shocking," said Melchett. "Shocking. All very trying for you. And the
shot sounded very loud, you say? As though it were near at hand?"
"That was simply the state of my nerves."
"Of course. Of course. And what time was all this? To help us in
tracing the telephone call, you know."
"About half past six."
"You can't give it us more exactly than that?"
"Well, you see, the little clock on my mantelpiece had just chimed the
half hour, and I said 'Surely that clock is fast.' (It does gain, that
clock.) And I compared it with the watch I was wearing and that only
said ten minutes past, but then I put it to my ear and found it had
stopped. So I thought, 'Well, if that clock is fast, I shall hear the
church tower in a moment or two.' And then, of course, the telephone
bell rang, and I forgot all about it."
She paused, breathless.
"Well, that's near enough," said Colonel Melchett. "We'll have it
looked into for you, Mrs. Price Ridley."
"Just think of it as a silly joke, and don't worry, Mrs. Price Ridley,"
I said.
She looked at me coldly. Evidently the incident of the pound note still
rankled.
"Very strange things have been happening in this village lately," she
said, addressing herself to Melchett. "Very strange things indeed.
Colonel Protheroe was going to look into them, and what happened to
him, poor man? Perhaps I shall be the next."
And on that she took her departure, shaking her head with a kind of
ominous melancholy. Melchett muttered under his breath, "No such luck."
Then his face grew grave, and he looked inquiringly at Inspector Slack.
That worthy nodded his head slowly.
"This about settles it, sir. That's three people who heard the shot.
We've got to find out now who fired it. This business of Mr. Redding's
has delayed us. But we've got several starting points. Thinking Mr.
Redding was guilty, I didn't bother to look into them. But that's all
changed now. And now one of the first things to do is to look up that
telephone call."
"Mrs. Price Ridley's?"
The Inspector grinned.
"No--though I suppose we'd better make a note of that or else we shall
have the old girl bothering in here again. No, I meant that fake call
that got the Vicar out of the way."
"Yes," said Melchett. "That's important."
"And the next thing is to find out what everyone was doing that evening
between six and seven. Everyone at Old Hall, I mean, and pretty well
everyone in the village as well."
I gave a sigh.
"What wonderful energy you have, Inspector Slack."
"I believe in hard work. We'll begin by just noting down your own
movements, Mr. Clement."
"Willingly. The telephone call came through about half past five."
"A man's voice, or a woman's?"
"A woman's. At least it sounded like a woman's. But of course I took it
for granted it was Mrs. Abbott speaking."
"You didn't recognize it as being Mrs. Abbott's?"
"No, I can't say I did. I didn't notice the voice particularly, or
think about it."
"And you started right away? Walked? Haven't you got a bicycle?"
"No."
"I see. So it took you--how long?"
"It's very nearly two miles, whichever way you go."
"Through Old Hall woods is the shortest way, isn't it?"
"Actually, yes. But it's not particularly good going. I went and came
back by the footpath across the fields."
"The one that comes out opposite the Vicarage gate?"
"Yes."
"And Mrs. Clement?"
"My wife was in London. She arrived back by the 6.50 train."
"Right. The maid I've seen. That finishes with the Vicarage. I'll be
off to Old Hall next. And then I want an interview with Mrs. Lestrange.
Queer her going to see Protheroe the night before he was killed. A lot
of queer things about this case."
I agreed.
Glancing at the clock, I realized that it was nearly lunch time. I
invited Melchett to partake of pot luck with us, but he excused himself
on the plea of having to go to the Blue Boar. The Blue Boar gives you
a first-rate meal of the joint and two vegetable type. I thought his
choice was a wise one. After her interview with the police, Mary would
probably be feeling more temperamental than usual.