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VI
The house was easily searched. They went through the few outbuildings
first and then turned their attention to the building itself. Mrs Rogers’ yard
measure discovered in the kitchen dresser assisted them. But there were
no hidden spaces left unaccounted for. Everything was plain and straight-
forward, a modern structure devoid of concealments. They went through
the ground floor first. As they mounted to the bedroom floor, they saw
through the landing window Rogers carrying out a tray of cocktails to the
terrace.
Philip Lombard said lightly:
‘Wonderful animal, the good servant. Carries on with an impassive
countenance.’
Armstrong said appreciatively:
‘Rogers is a first-class butler, I’ll say that for him!’
Blore said:
‘His wife was a pretty good cook, too. That dinner—last night—’
They turned in to the first bedroom.
Five minutes later they faced each other on the landing. No one hiding—
no possible hiding-place.
Blore said:
‘There’s a little stair here.’
Dr Armstrong said:
‘It leads up to the servants’ room.’
Blore said:
‘There must be a place under the roof—for cisterns, water tank, etc. It’s
the best chance—and the only one!’
And it was then, as they stood there, that they heard the sound from
above. A soft furtive footfall overhead.
They all heard it. Armstrong grasped Blore’s arm. Lombard held up an
admonitory finger.
‘Quiet—listen.’
It came again—someone moving softly, furtively, overhead.
Armstrong whispered:
‘He’s actually in the bedroom itself. The room where Mrs Rogers’ body
is.’
Blore whispered back:
‘Of course! Best hiding-place he could have chosen! Nobody likely to go
there. Now then—quiet as you can.’
They crept stealthily upstairs.
On the little landing outside the door of the bedroom they paused again.
Yes, someone was in the room. There was a faint creak from within.
Blore whispered:
‘Now.’
He flung open the door and rushed in, the other two close behind him.
Then all three stopped dead.
Rogers was in the room, his hands full of garments.
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