“I don’t want to cause you more pain than I can help, Mr. Mcationabb,” he said. “I can realize what it means to you for your fianc6e to have been poisoned on the very night of your engagement.” “There’ll be no need to go into that aspect of it,” said Colin Mcationabb, his face immovable.
“You’ll not need to concern yourself with my feelings. Just ask me any questions you like which you think may be useful to you.” “It was your considered opinion that Celia Austin’s behaviour had a psychological origin?” “There’s no doubt about it at all,- said Colin Meationabb. “If you’d like me to go into the theory of the thing . . .” “No, no,” said Inspector Sharpe, hastily.
“I’m taking your word for it as a student of psychology.” “Her childhood had been particularly unfortunate. It had set-up an emotional block. . . .” “Quite so, quite so.” Inspector Sharpe was desperately anxious to avoid hearing the story of yet another unhappy childhood. Nigel’s had been quite enough.
“You had been attracted to her for some time?” “I would not say precisely that,” said Colin, considering the matter conscientiously. “These things sometimes surprise you by the way they dawn upon you suddenly, like. Subconsciously no doubt, I had been attracted, but I was not aware of the fact.
Since it was not my intention to marry young I had no doubt set up a considerable resistance to the idea in my conscious mind.” “Yes. Just so. Celia Austin was happy in her engagement to you? I mean, she expressed no doubts? Uncertainties? There was nothing she felt she ought to tell you?” “She made a very full confession of all she’d been doing. There was nothing more in her mind to worry her.” “And you were planning to get married-whenough?” “Not for a considerable time. I’m not in a position, at comthe moment, to support a wife.” “Had Celia any enemy here? Anyone who did not like her?” “I can hardly believe so. I’ve given that point of view a great deal of thought, Inspector.
Celia was well liked here. I’d say, myself, it was not a personal matter at all which brought about her end.” “What do you mean by’not a personal matter’?” “I do no-t wish to be very precise at the moment. It’s only a vague kind of idea I have and I’m not clear about it myself.” From that position the Inspector could not budge him.
The last two students to be interviewed were Sally Finch and Elizabeth Johnston. The Inspector took Sally Finch first.
Sally was an attractive girl with a mop of red hair and eyes that were bright and intelligent. After routine enquiries Sally Finch suddenly took the initiative.
“D’you know what I’d like to do, Inspector?
I’d like to tell you just what I think. I personally.
There’s something all wrong about this house, something very wrong indeed. I’m sure of that.” “You mean because Celia Austin was poisoned?” “No, I mean before that. I’ve been feeling it for some time. I didn’t like the things that were going on here.
I didn’t like that rucksack which was slashed about and I didn’t like Valerie’s scarf being cut to pieces.
I didn’t like Black Bess’s notes being covered with ink. I was going to get out of here and get out quick. That’s what I still mean to do, as soon, that is, as you let us go.” Sally nodded her head.
“You mean you’re afraid of something, Miss Finch?” “Yes, I’m afraid. There’s something or someone here who’s pretty ruthless. The whole place isn’t-well, how shall I put it?-it isn’t what it seems. No, no, Inspector, I don’t mean Communists. I can see that just trembling on your lips. It’s not Communists I mean. Perhaps it isn’t even criminal. I don’t know. But I’ll bet you anything you like that awful old woman knows about it all.” “What old woman? You mean Mrs. Hubbard?” “No. Not Ma Hubbard. She’s a dear. I mean old Nicoletis. That old she-wolf.” “That’s interesting, Miss Finch. Can you be more definite? About Mrs. Nicoletis, I mean.” Sally shook her head.
“No. That’s just what I can’t be. All I can tell you is she gives me the creeps every time I pass her. Something queer is going on here, Inspector.” “I wish you could be a little more definite.” “So do I. You’ll be thinking I’m fanciful.