“Quite,” I said.
“I felt quite faint,” continued Mrs. Price Ridley. “All on edge and so nervous that when I heard a shot in the woods, I do declare I jumped almost out of my skin. That will show you.”
“A shot in the woods?” said Inspector Slack alertly.
“In my excited state, it simply sounded to me like a cannon going off. ‘Oh!’ I said, and sank down on the sofa in a state of prostration. Clara had to bring me a glass of damson gin.”
“Shocking,” said Melchett. “Shocking. All very trying for you. And the shot sounded very loud, you say? As though it were near at hand?”
“That was simply the state of my nerves.”
“Of course. Of course. And what time was all this? To help us in tracing the telephone call, you know.”
“About half-past six.”
“You can’t give it us more exactly than that?”
“Well, you see, the little clock on my mantelpiece had just chimed the half-hour, and I said, ‘Surely that clock is fast.’ (It does gain, that clock.) And I compared it with the watch I was wearing and that only said ten minutes past, but then I put it to my ear and found it had stopped. So I thought: ‘Well, if that clock is fast, I shall hear the church tower in a moment or two.’ And then, of course, the telephone bell rang, and I forgot all about it.” She paused breathless.
“Well, that near enough,” said Colonel Melchett. “We’ll have it looked into for you, Mrs. Price Ridley.”
“Just think of it as a silly joke, and don’t worry, Mrs. Price Ridley,” I said.
She looked at me coldly. Evidently the incident of the pound note still rankled.
“Very strange things have been happening in this village lately,” she said, addressing herself to Melchett. “Very strange things indeed. Colonel Protheroe was going to look into them, and what happened to him, poor man? Perhaps I shall be the next?”
And on that she took her departure, shaking her head with a kind of ominous melancholy. Melchett muttered under his breath: “No such luck.” Then his face grew grave, and he looked inquiringly at Inspector Slack.
That worthy nodded his head slowly.
“This about settles it, sir. That’s three people who heard the shot. We’ve got to find out now who fired it. This business of Mr. Redding’s has delayed us. But we’ve got several starting points. Thinking Mr. Redding was guilty, I didn’t bother to look into them. But that’s all changed now. And now one of the first things to do is to look up that telephone call.”
“Mrs. Price Ridley’s?”
The inspector grinned.
“No – though I suppose we’d better make a note of that or else we shall have the old girl bothering in here again. No, I meant that fake call that got the vicar out of the way.”
“Yes,” said Melchett, “that’s important.”
“And the next thing is to find out what every one was doing that evening between six and seven. Every one at Old Hall, I mean, and pretty well every one in the village as well.”
I gave a sigh.
“What wonderful energy you have, Inspector Slack.”
“I believe in hard work. We’ll begin by just noting down your own movements, Mr. Clement.”
“Willingly. The telephone call came through about half-past five.”
“A man’s voice, or a woman’s?”
“A woman’s. At least it sounded like a woman’s. But of course I took it for granted it was Mrs. Abbott speaking.”
“You didn’t recognise it as being Mrs. Abbott’s?”
“No, I can’t say I did. I didn’t notice the voice particularly or think about it.”
“And you started right away? Walked? Haven’t you got a bicycle?”
“No.”
“I see. So it took you – how long?”
“It’s very nearly two miles, whichever way you go.”
“Through Old Hall woods is the shortest way, isn’t it?”
“Actually, yes. But it’s not particularly good going. I went and came back by the footpath across the fields.”
“The one that comes out opposite the Vicarage gate?”
“Yes.”
“And Mrs. Clement?”
“My wife was in London. She arrived back by the 6.50 train.”
“Right. The maid I’ve seen. That finishes with the Vicarage. I’ll be off to Old Hall next. And then I want an interview with Mrs. Lestrange. Queer, her going to see Protheroe the night before he was killed. A lot of queer things about this case.”