‘Perhaps in spite of everything, Nicholson believes you have,’ suggested Bobby.
‘No,’ said Frankie. ‘The suggestion didn’t go down at all.
The man’s too damned clever.’ ‘He’s been too clever for us,’ said Bobby gloomily. ‘Frankie, do you know what annoys me most about this business?’ ‘No. What?’ ‘That even now, when we’re going to be hurled into the next world, we still don’t know who Evans is.’ ‘Let’s ask him,’ said Frankie. ‘You know – a last-minute boon. He can’t refuse to tell us. I agree with you that I simply can’t die without having my curiosity satisfied.’ There was a silence, then Bobby said: ‘Do you think we ought to yell for help – a sort of last chance? It’s about the only chance we’ve got.’ ‘Not yet,’ said Frankie. ‘In the first place, I don’t believe anyone would hear – he’d never risk it otherwise – and in the second place, I feel I just can’t bear waiting here to be killed without being able to speak or be spoken to. Let’s leave shouting till the last possible moment. It’s – it’s so comforting having you to talk to.’ Her voice wavered a little over the last words.
‘I’ve got you into an awful mess, Frankie.’ ‘Oh! that’s all right. You couldn’t have kept me out. I wanted to come in. Bobby, do you think he’ll really pull it off?
Us, I mean.’ ‘I’m terribly afraid he will. He’s so damnably efficient.’ ‘Bobby, do you believe now that it was he who killed Henry Bassingtonffrench?’ ‘If it were possible ‘ ‘It is possible – granted one thing: that Sylvia Bassingtonffrench is in it, too.’ ‘Frankie!’ ‘I know. I was just as horrified when the idea occurred to me.
But it fits. Why was Sylvia so dense about the morphia – why did she resist so obstinately when we wanted her to send her husband somewhere else instead of the Grange? And then she was in the house when the shot was fired ‘ ‘She might have done it herself.’ ‘Oh! no, surely.’ ‘Yes, she might. And then have given the key of the study to Nicholson to put in Henry’s pocket.’ ‘It’s all crazy,’ said Frankie in a hopeless voice. ‘Like looking- through a distorting mirror. All the people who seemed most all right are really all wrong – all the nice, everyday people.
There ought to be some way of telling criminals – eyebrows or ears or something.’ ‘My God!’ cried Bobby.
‘What is it?’ ‘Frankie, that wasn’t Nicholson who came here just now.’ ‘Have you gone quite mad? Who was it then?’ ‘I don’t know – but it wasn’t Nicholson. All along I felt there was something wrong, but couldn’t spot it, and your saying ears has given me the clue. When I was watching Nicholson the other evening through the window I especially noticed his ears – the lobes are joined to the face. But this man tonight – his ears weren’t like that.’ ‘But what does it mean?’ Frankie asked hopelessly.
‘This is a very clever actor impersonating Nicholson.’ ‘But why – and who could it be?’ ‘Bassington-ffrench,’ breathed Bobby. ‘Roger Bassingtonffrench! We spotted the right man at the beginning and then, like idiots, we went astray after red herrings.’ ‘Bassington-ffrench,’ whispered Frankie. ‘Bobby, you’re right. It must be him. He was the only person there when I taunted Nicholson about accidents.’ ‘Then it really is all up,’ said Bobby. ‘I’ve still had a kind of sneaking hope that possibly Roger Bassington-ffrench might nose out our trail by some miracle but now the last hope’s gone.
Moira’s a prisoner, you and I are tied hand and foot. Nobody else has the least idea where we are. The game’s up, Frankie.’ As he finished speaking there was a sound overhead. The next minute, with a terrific crash, a heavy body fell through the skylight.
It was too dark to see anything.
‘What the devil -‘ began Bobby.
From amidst a pile of broken glass, a voice spoke.
‘B-b-b-bobby,’ it said.
‘Well, I’m damned!’ said Bobby. ‘It’s Badger!’
CHAPTER 29 Badger’s Story
There was not a minute to be lost. Already sounds could be heard on the floor below.