Eighteen
IF rank Cornish replaced the receiver.
“Miss Brewster is out of London for the day,” he announced.
“Is she now?” said Craddock.
“Do you think she—”
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t think so, but I don’t know. Ardwyck Fenn?”
“Out. I left word for him to ring you. And Margot Bence, Personality Photographer, has got an assignmentsomewhere in the country. Her pansy partner didn’t know where—or said he didn’t. And the butler’s hooked it toLondon.”
“I wonder,” said Craddock thoughtfully, “if the butler has hooked it for good. I always suspect dying relatives.
Why was he suddenly anxious to go to London today?”
“He could have put the cyanide in the atomizer easily enough before he left.”
“Anybody could.”
“But I think he’s indicated. It could hardly be someone from outside.”
“Oh, yes, it could. You’d have to judge your moment. You could leave a car in one of the side drives, wait untileveryone is in the dining room, say, and slip in through a window and upstairs. The shrubberies come close up to thehouse.”
“Damn’ risky¹.”
“This murderer doesn’t mind taking risks, you know. That’s been apparent all along.”
“We’ve had a man on duty in the grounds.”
“I know. One man wasn’t enough. So long as it was a question of these anonymous² letters I didn’t feel so muchurgency. Marina Gregg herself is being well guarded. It never occurred to me that anyone else was in danger. I—”
The telephone rang. Cornish took the call.
“It’s the Dorchester. Mr. Ardwyck Fenn is on the line.”
He proffered³ the receiver to Craddock who took it.
“Mr. Fenn? This is Craddock here.”
“Ah, yes. I heard you had rung me. I have been out all day.”
“I am sorry to tell you, Mr. Fenn, that Miss Zielinsky died this morning—of cyanide poisoning.”
“Indeed? I am shocked to hear it. An accident? Or not an accident?”
“Not an accident. Prussic acid had been put in an atomizer she was in the habit of using.”
“I see. Yes, I see…” There was a short pause. “And why, may I ask, should you ring me about this distressingoccurrence?”

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