Anna, Where Are You?

A

“And you don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say? There’s quite a lot I can say if I choose! Some people won’t like it, but that isn’t going to stop me saying it!”

He told her that she could make a statement, and cautioned her that what she said would be taken down and could afterwards be used in evidence. She laughed in nis face.

“If I’m an accessory I’ve got to have a principal, haven’t I? Why don’t you go ahead and arrest him? I didn’t shoot up the banks, you know, I only drove the car! And I didn’t shoot Peveril Craddock either!” She jerked her head in Thomasina’s direction. “She knows that, because we were together when both the shots were fired!”

Thomasina said, “Yes.” Just the one word in a deep mournful tone.

A

“There! You hear that? Well, there you are! Why don’t you get on and arrest him? I’m not going to prison alone! And I’m not going to stand in the dock alone-I’m going to have my lover with me! She told you about Mr. Sandrow in her statement, didn’t she? Well, why don’t you get on and arrest him? There he is!” This time the jerk of the head was for Peter Brandon, who stared back at her in angry amazement.

Thomasina got up from the chair where she was sitting and walked over to stand beside him. She slipped her hand inside his arm. They did not look at one another.

At the writing-table Inspector Abbott surveyed the scene in silence. Nobody could have dreamed that just half an hour before he had entered this room he had been in bed at the George in Ledlington. His dark suit was, as always, immaculate, his tie perfectly knotted, his fair hair mirror-smooth. He held a pencil negligently between two fingers. His light, cool eyes watched A

Inspector Jackson was watching her too. He said,

“You are making a statement to the effect that it was Mr. Brandon who was concerned in the robbery at the County Bank yesterday in the course of which the bank manager and a clerk were murdered, and that you were waiting for him with a stolen car and afterwards drove him away. Is that what you really mean us to understand?”

She gave him a hard mocking look and laughed, mimicking his formal way of speech.

“How clever you are, Inspector! That is just exactly what I do mean you to understand! How did you manage to guess? But of course the police are all brains! Inspector Jackson -Mr. Sandrow-Mr. Peter Brandon Sandrow. Peter, darling, we’re for it, meet the police!”

“Well, Mr. Brandon?”

Peter’s shoulder lifted.

“Red herring,” he said briefly.

Miss Silver said in a quiet but decided voice,

“It would not have been possible for Mr. Brandon to be the bandaged man who passed me on the Station Approach. He is too tall and too broad, and he takes at least two sizes larger in shoes.”

Jackson said, “Where were you during yesterday afternoon, Mr. Brandon?”

“I was on my way down from town. I reached Ledlington at a quarter to five and took the five o’clock bus out to Deep End. Miss Gwyneth Tremlett, Miss Silver, and Mr. Remington were in the same bus.”

“But not the same train.”

“No. But there was a man in the carriage with me all the way from London. He told me he had a book-shop in the Market Square. A tall, thin man with glasses and a stoop, full of odd bits of information about the county. We were talking quite a lot, so he ought to remember me.”

“That would be Mr. Ba

Mr. Ba

Inspector Jackson hung up the receiver.

“Mr. Ba

As he spoke, there was a faint stir of relief in the room. A

Inspector Jackson was saying,

“Now, Miss Ball, do you wish to make a statement, or do you not? It is no use your accusing i

A

“Of course I know! But I’m not going to tell you! Why should I?”

As she spoke, the door from the passage was opened by a police sergeant and Mr. John Robinson was ushered in. He stood for a moment looking about him-at the two Inspectors, at Thomasina Elliot and Peter Brandon, at A

“Craddock! Who did it?”

Frank Abbott said in his almost casual ma

“Well, we were rather wondering whether you could help us about that.”

“I?”

“Yes, you. Your name is not really John Robinson, is it?”

“What makes you think so?”

“Oh, just a quotation or two. You shouldn’t have risked them, you know-Miss Silver has her Te

Mr. Robinson shrugged, his shoulders and said,

“Oh, well, I was through with the game anyway. The name is Verney-John Verney.”

“And you are Mrs. Craddock’s husband?”

“Yes, poor soul.”

“In which case you had quite a strong motive for killing Craddock.”

John Verney shrugged again. Everyone was looking at him now, but he appeared extremely cool. When he spoke, the country drawl had been dropped.

“I?” he said. “Why should I kill him? If he had made Emily a decent husband, I’d have cleared off. I came here to find out how things were. I was in a plane crash in the States. The plane was burnt out and everyone with it-as they thought. I don’t know how I got clear, because I don’t remember a thing about it. It was in one of those remote districts-very inaccessible. I must have wandered for miles, and the next thing I knew, it was six months later, and I was officially dead. Some people had taken me in-I’d been chopping wood and doing chores for them. I don’t remember anything about it. Well, I thought Emily would be better off without me, so I stayed on. I got interested in birds and creatures. I did a book with illustrations. It caught on, and I made a little money. The next one was a freak best-seller, I haven’t the least idea why. It went like a forest fire, so I thought I had better come over here and see how Emily and the children were getting on. Well, I found she had come into money and married again. I didn’t think it was my business to butt in if she was doing all right, so I came here to find out. Of course anyone could see that Craddock was a pompous ass, but they all said she adored him. I had rather a jolt in the autumn when I found the children taking home poisonous fungi under the instructions of this young woman-it is Miss Ball, isn’t it?”