Eighteen I
Hardcastle arrived at No. 19, Wilbraham Crescent just as Miss Pebmarsh was coming out of thehouse.
“Excuse me a minute, Miss Pebmarsh.”
“Oh. Is it—Detective Inspector¹ Hardcastle?”
“Yes. Can I have a word with you?”
“I don’t want to be late at the Institute. Will it take long?”
“I assure² you only three or four minutes.”
She went into the house and he followed.
“You’ve heard what happened this afternoon?” he said.
“Has anything happened?”
“I thought you might have heard. A girl was killed in the telephone box just down the road.”
“Killed? When?”
“Two hours and three quarters ago.” He looked at the grandfather clock.
“I’ve heard nothing about it. Nothing,” said Miss Pebmarsh. A kind of anger soundedmomentarily in her voice. It was as though her disability had been brought home to her in someparticularly wounding way. “A girl—killed! What girl?”
“Her name is Edna Brent and she worked at the Cavendish Secretarial Bureau³.”
“Another girl from there! Had she been sent for like this girl, Sheila what’s-her-name was?”
“I don’t think so,” said the inspector. “She did not come to see you here, at your house?”
“Here? No. Certainly not.”
“Would you have been in if she had come here?”
“I’m not sure. What time did you say?”
“Approximately twelve thirty or a little later.”
“Yes,” said Miss Pebmarsh. “I would have been home by then.”
“Where did you go after the inquest?”
“I came straight back here.” She paused and then asked, “Why did you think this girl mighthave come to see me?”
“Well, she had been at the inquest this morning and she had seen you there, and she must havehad some reason for coming to Wilbraham Crescent. As far as we know, she was not acquaintedwith anyone in this road.”
“But why should she come to see me just because she had seen me at the inquest?”
“Well—” the inspector smiled a little, then hastily⁴ tried to put the smile in his voice as herealized that Miss Pebmarsh could not appreciate its

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