An Oxford Tragedy by J. C. Masterman

his smile reappeared again for a moment, ‘I have promised to help you, and if I am to do that you must answer some questions.’
    We settled down in a couple of arm-chairs, and I wondered whether this amateur detective would ask me the same questions as the professional had put to me before dinner.
    â€˜Forgive a foreigner’s ignorance,’ Brendel began, ‘but do you wear gloves much in Oxford?’
    â€˜Why, no,’ I replied. ‘I suppose we don’t. We wear them sometimes on very cold days to keep warm, and we wear them if we go up to London.’
    â€˜You wouldn’t wear them to make a formal call – on the President or the Dean, for example?’
    I laughed. ‘Good Heavens, no; what an odd idea!’
    Brendel nodded as though satisfied.
    â€˜Could you give me the names of the personal servants of everyone who dined last night? Scouts you call them, don’t you? I learned that word yesterday.’
    â€˜Not off-hand,’ I replied, ‘but I will get a list for you to-morrow from the Bursar.’
    â€˜Could I look through their masters’ wardrobes and cupboards with them?’
    â€˜It might seem a bit odd, but I suppose that if we said you were a detective it could be done. But they’re a very trustworthy and loyal lot of men, and they won’t much like it.’
    Brendel nodded comprehendingly. ‘It’s not important, except in certain eventualities, and perhaps in a couple of cases.’ He seemed to be talking to himself rather than to me, and for a minute or two he remained plunged in thought. Then he continued.
    â€˜There are four of your undergraduates that I must know more about. I have noted their names – yes – Scarborough, Garnett, Howe, Martin. Tell me something of them. Where they live, and what their fathers do, and any personal details you can think of.’
    He noted the surprise in my face and laughed.
    â€˜There’s no mystery, Winn. But I must talk with these young men, and the young are shy. If I know about them I can talk without scaring them, and there are perhaps things which they can tell me.’
    I gave him the information he wanted, and was rewarded by some congratulatory remarks, which I admit gave me satisfaction.
    â€˜Excellent, excellent,’ he said; ‘really, you draw characters to perfection. You ought to write books, Winn, and give your gifts scope. Now tell me about all our friends who dined at the
Henkersmahlzeit.’
    Flattered by his praise I exerted myself to give a portrait of each of my colleagues in turn, whilst Brendel industriously made entries in his note-book.
    â€˜Just two more questions,’ he said, when I had finished. ‘First, do you own a car?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, somewhat mystified. ‘I don’t use it much, but I’ve an old Standard in the garage behind the college.’
    â€˜May I borrow it when I need it?’
    â€˜Most certainly. I’ll give you the garage key, and you can take it out when you wish.’
    â€˜Thank you, and now the last question. How can I meet and talk to Mrs Shirley and her sister?’
    I hesitated and then answered him.
    â€˜With them we mustn’t use any subterfuge. I couldn’t be a party to that. The only way is to tell them straightforwardly that you are investigating this affair, and ask for their help. It will be painful, but I’ll take you when you want to go.’
    He thanked me, and shut up his note-book. I was surprised that he had asked me none of the questions about access to college and about the porters which had exercised Cotter’s mind so much, and I mentioned my surprise to him.
    He smiled. ‘Your Inspector Cotter is highly competent,’ he answered. ‘He won’t make any mistakes about that kind of thing. I’ve had already one little talk with him. He will do all that better than I could. And perhaps my method of approach is a little different