"I got her out of this quick," replied Mr. Marigold, "she's had a bad shock, poor girl, though she gave her evidence clearly enough for all that... as far as it goes and that's not much. Some friends near by have taken her in! The doctor has given her some bromide and says she's got to be kept quiet...""What's her story!" queried the Chief.
"She can't throw much light on the business. She and her father reached home from the theatre about a quarter past twelve, had a bit of supper in the dining-room and went up to bed before one o'clock. Miss Mackwayte saw her father go into his room, which is next to hers, and shut the door. The next thing she knows is that she woke up suddenly with some kind of a loud noise in her ears... that was the report of the pistol, I've no doubt... she thought for a minute it was an air raid. Then suddenly a hand was pressed over her mouth, something was crammed into her mouth and she was firmly strapped down to the bed.""Did she see the man?" asked Desmond.
"She didn't see anything from first to last," answered the detective, "as far as she is concerned it might have been a woman or a black man who trussed her up. It was quite dark in her bedroom and this burglar fellow, after binding and gagging her, fastened a bandage across her eyes into the bargain. She says she heard him moving about her room and then creep out very softly.
The next thing she knew was Mrs. Chugg arriving at her bedside this morning.""What time did this attack take place?" asked the Chief.
"She has no idea," answered the detective. "She couldn't see her watch and they haven't got a striking clock in the house.""But can she make no guess!"
"Well, she says she thinks it was several hours before Mrs. Chugg arrived in the morning... as much as three hours, she thinks!"A"nd what time did Mrs. Chugg arrive!"
"At half-past six!"
"About Mackwayte... how long was he dead when they found him?
What does the doctor say?"
"About three hours approximately, but you know, they can't always tell to an hour or so!""Well," said the Chief slowly, "it looks as if one might figure the murder as having been committed some time between 3 and 3.30a.m."
"My idea exactly," said Mr. Marigold. "Shall we go upstairs?"He conducted the Chief and Desmond up the short flight of stairs to the first story. He pushed open the first door he came to.
"Mackwayte's room, on the back," he said, "bed slept in, as you see, old gentleman's clothes on a chair--obviously he was disturbed by some noise made by the burglar and came out to see what was doing! And here," he indicated a door adjoining, Mis Miss Mackwayte's room, on the front; as you observe. They don't use the two rooms on the second floor, except for box-rooms...
one's full of old Mackwayte's theatre trunks and stuff. They keep no servant; Mrs. Chugg comes in each morning and stays all day.
She goes away after supper every evening."Desmond found himself looking into a plainly furnished but dainty bedroom with white furniture and a good deal of chintz about.
There were some photographs and pictures hanging on the walls.
The room was spotlessly clean and very tidy.
Desmond remarked on this, asking if the police had put the room straight.
Mr. Marigold looked quite shocked.
"Oh, no, everything is just as it was when Mrs. Chugg found Miss Mackwayte this morning. There's Miss Mackwayte's gloves and handbag on the toilet-table just as she left 'em last night. Iwouldn't let her touch her clothes even. She went over to Mrs.
Appleby's in her dressing-gown, in a taxi.""Then Master Burglar didn't burgle this room?" asked the Chief.
"Nothing touched, not even the girl's money," replied Marigold.
"Then why did he come up here at all?" asked Desmond.
"Obviously, the old gentleman disturbed him," was the detective's reply. "Barney got scared and shot the old gentleman, then came up here to make sure that the daughter would not give him away before he could make his escape. He must have known the report of the gun would wake her up.""But are there no clues or finger-prints or anything of that kind here, Marigold?" asked the Chief.
"Not a finger-print anywhere," responded the other, "men like Barney are born wise to the fingerprint business, sir."He dipped a finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket.