there are more of them, and I am sure I went to Adam Street to visit them.'
'Thank you,' said Hannasyde. 'I know Mr Giles Carrington very well. Now, if you would answer one or two questions, Mr Matthews, I need not detain you. When did you last see your uncle?'
Randall wrinkled his brow. 'Do you know, I seem to have heard those words before? Ought it not to be father?'
Hannasyde was aware of rising annoyance. He curbed it, and replied evenly: 'When was it, please?'
'Surely the Civil Wars?' said Randall. 'Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought we were talking about pictures! I last saw my uncle on the Sunday before he died. That would be —'
'May 12th,' said Hannasyde. 'You were at Grinley Heath on that day?'
'I was indeed,' said Randall with a faint shudder. 'You will forgive my curiosity, Mr Matthews, but have you any particular reason for remembering the occasion?' asked Hannasyde, observing the shudder.
'It is quite indelibly printed on my mind,' said Randall. 'My visit coincided with that of my cousin, Mrs—I think it's Crewe, but I'm not altogether sure.'
'Is that all!'
'No,' said Randall. 'It was by no means all. She brought her regrettable offspring with her, and appeared to think it a fortunate circumstance that I should be present to admire it.'
Hannasyde ignored this, and said in his curtest tone: 'And that was the last time you saw the deceased?'
'Yes,' said Randall.
'Were you on good terms with him?'
'Quite,' said Randall indifferently.
'Intimate terms, Mr Matthews?'
Randall looked at him through his lashes. 'I shall have to ask you to construe, my dear Superintendent.'
'Let me put it this way: were you in his confidence?'
'I shouldn't think so,' replied Randall. 'There is just that indefinable something about me which does not lead my family to confide in me.'
'You cannot tell me, then, whether he had any enemies?'
'No,' said Randall softly. 'And I cannot tell you whether he had any friends either.'
'Oh!' Hannasyde cast him a shrewd glance under his brows. 'Do you know of anyone who had any reason to wish him dead?'
'Other than myself?' asked Randall.
The Sergeant jumped. Hannasyde answered: 'Had you reason, Mr Matthews?'
Randall smiled at him. 'My very dear sir, I'm the heir. Now do let us understand each other! There's not the least need for you to ask me careful questions. I shall be delighted to answer anything you choose to ask me. In fact, I'm positively burning to assist you to track down the murderer.'
'Thank you,' said Hannasyde.
'Not at all,' replied Randall. 'Only you mustn't be shy. You would like to know the state of my Bank balance, for one thing. That's not the sort of question I can answer offhand, but I will give you a letter of introduction to my Bank manager.'
'I should prefer it if you would give me an account of your movements on May 14th,' said Hannasyde.
'What could be easier? I was naturally at Newmarket,' answered Randall at once.
'You are fond of racing, Mr Matthews?'
'Very,' said Randall, moving over to his desk, and beginning to jot down something on a half-sheet of notepaper. 'Returning to town after the 3.30 race, in the company of one Frank Clutterbuck, whose address I am going to give you, I came back to this flat, changed my clothes—vide my man Benson—and repaired to Duval's, a restaurant no doubt known to you. Mention my name to the maitre d' hotel. I was joined there by two friends, whose names and addresses I am at the moment writing down for you. From Duval's we went to the Palladium—Row B, in the stalls—8, 9, and 10. Leaving the Palladium shortly before the end of the performance, I became a slave to duty, and drove but I stupidly omitted to take the taxi-driver's number to South Street, where I made a belated but graceful appearance at Mrs Massingham's dance. I will give you her address too. Somewhere in the region of three o'clock I left South Street, came back to this flat, and went to bed.' He rose, and handed the sheet of paper to Hannasyde.
'Thank you,' said Hannasyde. 'I know Mr Giles Carrington very well. Now, if you would answer one or two questions, Mr Matthews, I need not detain you. When did you last see your uncle?'
Randall wrinkled his brow. 'Do you know, I seem to have heard those words before? Ought it not to be father?'
Hannasyde was aware of rising annoyance. He curbed it, and replied evenly: 'When was it, please?'
'Surely the Civil Wars?' said Randall. 'Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought we were talking about pictures! I last saw my uncle on the Sunday before he died. That would be —'
'May 12th,' said Hannasyde. 'You were at Grinley Heath on that day?'
'I was indeed,' said Randall with a faint shudder. 'You will forgive my curiosity, Mr Matthews, but have you any particular reason for remembering the occasion?' asked Hannasyde, observing the shudder.
'It is quite indelibly printed on my mind,' said Randall. 'My visit coincided with that of my cousin, Mrs—I think it's Crewe, but I'm not altogether sure.'
'Is that all!'
'No,' said Randall. 'It was by no means all. She brought her regrettable offspring with her, and appeared to think it a fortunate circumstance that I should be present to admire it.'
Hannasyde ignored this, and said in his curtest tone: 'And that was the last time you saw the deceased?'
'Yes,' said Randall.
'Were you on good terms with him?'
'Quite,' said Randall indifferently.
'Intimate terms, Mr Matthews?'
Randall looked at him through his lashes. 'I shall have to ask you to construe, my dear Superintendent.'
'Let me put it this way: were you in his confidence?'
'I shouldn't think so,' replied Randall. 'There is just that indefinable something about me which does not lead my family to confide in me.'
'You cannot tell me, then, whether he had any enemies?'
'No,' said Randall softly. 'And I cannot tell you whether he had any friends either.'
'Oh!' Hannasyde cast him a shrewd glance under his brows. 'Do you know of anyone who had any reason to wish him dead?'
'Other than myself?' asked Randall.
The Sergeant jumped. Hannasyde answered: 'Had you reason, Mr Matthews?'
Randall smiled at him. 'My very dear sir, I'm the heir. Now do let us understand each other! There's not the least need for you to ask me careful questions. I shall be delighted to answer anything you choose to ask me. In fact, I'm positively burning to assist you to track down the murderer.'
'Thank you,' said Hannasyde.
'Not at all,' replied Randall. 'Only you mustn't be shy. You would like to know the state of my Bank balance, for one thing. That's not the sort of question I can answer offhand, but I will give you a letter of introduction to my Bank manager.'
'I should prefer it if you would give me an account of your movements on May 14th,' said Hannasyde.
'What could be easier? I was naturally at Newmarket,' answered Randall at once.
'You are fond of racing, Mr Matthews?'
'Very,' said Randall, moving over to his desk, and beginning to jot down something on a half-sheet of notepaper. 'Returning to town after the 3.30 race, in the company of one Frank Clutterbuck, whose address I am going to give you, I came back to this flat, changed my clothes—vide my man Benson—and repaired to Duval's, a restaurant no doubt known to you. Mention my name to the maitre d' hotel. I was joined there by two friends, whose names and addresses I am at the moment writing down for you. From Duval's we went to the Palladium—Row B, in the stalls—8, 9, and 10. Leaving the Palladium shortly before the end of the performance, I became a slave to duty, and drove but I stupidly omitted to take the taxi-driver's number to South Street, where I made a belated but graceful appearance at Mrs Massingham's dance. I will give you her address too. Somewhere in the region of three o'clock I left South Street, came back to this flat, and went to bed.' He rose, and handed the sheet of paper to Hannasyde.
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