“Yes, the hands pointed to 6.22.”
A look of fear sprang up in his face.
“Oh! that – yes. I – I altered it.”
Haydock spoke suddenly.
“Where did you shoot Colonel Protheroe?”
“In the study at the Vicarage.”
“I mean in what part of the body?”
“Oh! – I – through the head, I think. Yes, through the head.”
“Aren’t you sure?”
“Since you know, I can’t see why it is necessary to ask me.” It was a feeble kind of bluster. There was some commotion outside. A constable without a helmet brought in a note.
“For the vicar. It says very urgent on it.”
I tore it open and read:
“Please – please – come to me. I don’t know what to do. It is all too awful. I want to tell someone. Please come immediately, and bring any one you like with you. – ANNE PROTHEROE.
I gave Melchett a meaning glance. He took the hint. We all went out together. Glancing over my shoulder, I had a glimpse of Lawrence Redding’s face. His eyes were riveted on the paper in my hand, and I have hardly ever seen such a terrible look of anguish and despair in any human being’s face.
I remembered Anne Protheroe sitting on my sofa and saying:
“I’m a desperate woman,” and my heart grew heavy within me. I saw now the possible reason for Lawrence Redding’s heroic self-accusation. Melchett was speaking to Slack.
“Have you got any line on Redding’s movements earlier in the day? There’s some reason to think he shot Protheroe earlier than he says. Get on to it, will you?”
He turned to me and without a word I handed him Anne Protheroe’s letter. He read it and pursed up his lips in astonishment. Then he looked at me inquiringly.
“Is this what you were hinting at this morning? ”
“Yes. I was not sure then if it was my duty to speak. I am quite sure now.” And I told him of what I had seen that night in the studio.
The colonel had a few words with the inspector and then we set off for Old Hall. Dr. Haydock came with us.
A very correct butler opened the door, with just the right amount of gloom in his bearing.
“Good-morning,” said Melchett. “Will you ask Mrs. Protheroe’s maid to tell her we are here and would like to see her, and then return here and answer a few questions.”
The butler hurried away and presently returned with the news that he had despatched the message.
“Now let’s hear something about yesterday,” said Colonel Melchett. “Your master was in to lunch?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And in his usual spirits?”
“As far as I could see, yes, sir.”
“What happened after that?”
“After luncheon Mrs. Protheroe went to lie down and the colonel went to his study. Miss Lettice went out to a tennis party in the two-seater. Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe had tea at four-thirty, in the drawing-room. The car was ordered for five-thirty to take them to the village. Immediately after they had left Mr. Clement rang up” – he bowed to me – “I told him they had started.”
“H’m,” said Colonel Melchett. “When was Mr. Redding last here?”
“On Tuesday afternoon, sir.”
“I understand that there was a disagreement between them?”
“I believe so, sir. The colonel gave me orders that Mr. Redding was not to be admitted in future.”
“Did you overhear the quarrel at all?” asked Colonel Melchett bluntly.
“Colonel Protheroe, sir, had a very loud voice, especially when it was raised in anger. I was unable to help overhearing a few words here and there.”
“Enough to tell you the cause of the dispute?”
“I understood, sir, that it had to do with a portrait Mr. Redding had been painting – a portrait of Miss Lettice.”
Melchett grunted.
“Did you see Mr. Redding when he left?”
“Yes, sir, I let him out.”
“Did he seem angry?”
“No, sir; if I may say so, he seemed rather amused.”
“Ah! He didn’t come to the house yesterday?”
“No, sir.”
“Any one else come?”
“Not yesterday, sir.”
“Well, the day before?”
“Mr. Dennis Clement came in the afternoon. And Dr. Stone was here for some time. And there was a lady in the evening.”