IV

At that very moment Mark was confirming this judgment on himself in atalk with Sir Henry Clithering.

With characteristic candour Mark had gone straight to the heart ofthings.

“It’s just dawned on me,” he said, “that I’m Favourite Suspect No. I to thepolice! They’ve been delving into my financial troubles. I’m broke, youknow, or very nearly. If dear old Jeff dies according to schedule in amonth or two, and Addie and I divide the dibs also according to schedule,all will be well. Matter of fact, I owe rather a lot … If the crash comes itwill be a big one! If I can stave it off, it will be the other way round—I shallcome out on top and be a very rich man.”

Sir Henry Clithering said:

“You’re a gambler, Mark.”

“Always have been. Risk everything—that’s my motto! Yes, it’s a luckything for me that somebody strangled that poor kid. I didn’t do it. I’m not astrangler. I don’t really think I could ever murder anybody. I’m too easy-going. But I don’t suppose I can ask the police to believe that! I must lookto them like the answer to the criminal investigator’s prayer! I had amotive, was on the spot, I am not burdened with high moral scruples! Ican’t imagine why I’m not in the jug already! That Superintendent’s got avery nasty eye.”

“You’ve got that useful thing, an alibi.”

“An alibi is the fishiest thing on God’s earth! No innocent person everhas an alibi! Besides, it all depends on the time of death, or something likethat, and you may be sure if three doctors say the girl was killed at mid-night, at least six will be found who will swear positively that she waskilled at five in the morning—and where’s my alibi then?”

“At any rate, you are able to joke about it.”

“Damned bad taste, isn’t it?” said Mark cheerfully. “Actually, I’m ratherscared. One is—with murder! And don’t think I’m not sorry for old Jeff. Iam. But it’s better this way—bad as the shock was—than if he’d found herout.”

“What do you mean, found her out?”

Mark winked.

“Where did she go off to last night? I’ll lay you any odds you like shewent to meet a man. Jeff wouldn’t have liked that. He wouldn’t have likedit at all. If he’d found she was deceiving him—that she wasn’t the prattlinglittle innocent she seemed—well—my father-in-law is an odd man. He’s aman of great self-control, but that self-control can snap. And then—lookout!”

Sir Henry glanced at him curiously.

“Are you fond of him or not?”

“I’m very fond of him—and at the same time I resent him. I’ll try and ex-plain. Conway Jefferson is a man who likes to control his surroundings.

He’s a benevolent despot, kind, generous, and affectionate—but his is thetune, and the others dance to his piping.”

Mark Gaskell paused.

“I loved my wife. I shall never feel the same for anyone else. Rosamundwas sunshine and laughter and flowers, and when she was killed I felt justlike a man in the ring who’s had a knock-out blow. But the referee’s beencounting a good long time now. I’m a man, after all. I like women. I don’twant to marry again—not in the least. Well, that’s all right. I’ve had to bediscreet—but I’ve had my good times all right. Poor Addie hasn’t. Addie’s areally nice woman. She’s the kind of woman men want to marry, not tosleep with. Give her half a chance and she would marry again—and bevery happy and make the chap happy too. But old Jeff saw her always asFrank’s wife—and hypnotized her into seeing herself like that. He doesn’tknow it, but we’ve been in prison. I broke out, on the quiet, a long timeago. Addie broke out this summer—and it gave him a shock. It split up hisworld. Result—Ruby Keene.”

Irrepressibly he sang:

“But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me!

“Come and have a drink, Clithering.”

It was hardly surprising, Sir Henry reflected, that Mark Gaskell shouldbe an object of suspicion to the police.