did take my car out. It's much more likely that the car he heard at one-forty-five was someone else's. I mean, he was probably half-asleep, and anyway he could not recognise the engine-note as positively as that.'
'You will agree, then, that it is highly improbable that anyone should have taken your car out of the garage on Saturday night?'
'Well, I - it looks like it, certainly, but I don't know that no one did. I mean… Look here, I don't in the least see why you should bother so much about my car when I've told you -'
'I'm bothering about it, Mr Mesurier, because your car was seen by a Constable on patrol-duty, at a point known as Dimbury Corner, ten miles from Hanborough, on the London Road, at twenty-six minutes to one on Sunday morning,' said Hannasyde.
Again Mesurier moistened his lips, but for a moment or two he did not speak. The ticking of a solid-looking clock on the mantelpiece became Budding audible. Mesurier glanced at it, as though the measured sound got on his nerves, and said: 'He must be mistaken, that's all I can say.
'Is the number of your car AMG240?' asked Hannasyde.
'Yes. Yes, it is.'
'Then I don't think he was mistaken,' said Hannasyde.
'He must have been. He misread the number. Probably ANG, or - or AHG. In any case, I wasn't on the Hanborough Road at that hour.' He put up a hand to his head, and smoothed his sleek black hair. 'If that's all the case you've got against me I mean, this Constable's memory against my word, I don't think much of it. Not that I wish to be offensive, you know. You detectives have to try everything, of course, but—'
'Quite so, Mr Mesurier.' The Superintendent's even voice effectually silenced Mesurier. 'You are only being asked to account for your movements on Saturday night. If you were in your lodgings all evening you can no doubt produce a witness to corroborate the truth of that statement?'
'No, I don't think I can,' Mesurier said with an uneasy smile. 'My landlady and her husband always go out on Saturday evening, so they wouldn't know whether I was in or out.' He became aware of a piece of cotton on his sleeve, and picked it off, and began to fidget with it.
'That is unfortunate,' said Hannasyde, and once more consulted his notes. He said abruptly: 'You had an interview with Arnold Vereker at ten-thirty on Saturday morning. Is that correct?'
'Well, I wouldn't swear to the exact time, but I did see him on Saturday.'
'Was the interview an unpleasant one, Mr Mesurier?'
'Unpleasant? I don't quite -'
'Did a quarrel take place between you and Mr Vereker on that occasion?'
'Oh lord, no!' Mesurier cried. 'Vereker was a bit peeved that morning, but we did not quarrel. I mean, why should we?'
Hannasyde laid his notes down. 'I think,' he said, 'that we shall get along faster if I tell you at once, Mr Mesurier, that I am in possession of a certain letter concerning you which Mr Vereker wrote to the firm's solicitor on Saturday. You may read it, if you choose.'
Mesurier held out his hand for the letter, and said: 'This - this isn't Vereker's writing.'
'No, it is mine,' said Hannasyde. 'That is a copy of the original.'
Mesurier, a tinge of colour in his cheeks, read the letter, and put it down on the table. 'I don't know what you expect me to say. It's an absolute misstatement—'
'Mr Mesurier, please understand me! The particular point raised in that letter does not concern me. I am not investigating the accounts of this company, but the murder of its chairman. The information contained in the letter tells me that your interview with Arnold Vereker on Saturday morning cannot have been a pleasant one. In addition, I have already ascertained that both your voices were heard raised in anger. Now -'
'That bloody cat, Rose Miller!' exclaimed Mesurier, flushing. 'Of course, if you're going to believe what she says . ! She's always had her knife into me. It's a complete lie to say that we quarrelled. Vereker went for me, and I shan't attempt to deny that he was in
'You will agree, then, that it is highly improbable that anyone should have taken your car out of the garage on Saturday night?'
'Well, I - it looks like it, certainly, but I don't know that no one did. I mean… Look here, I don't in the least see why you should bother so much about my car when I've told you -'
'I'm bothering about it, Mr Mesurier, because your car was seen by a Constable on patrol-duty, at a point known as Dimbury Corner, ten miles from Hanborough, on the London Road, at twenty-six minutes to one on Sunday morning,' said Hannasyde.
Again Mesurier moistened his lips, but for a moment or two he did not speak. The ticking of a solid-looking clock on the mantelpiece became Budding audible. Mesurier glanced at it, as though the measured sound got on his nerves, and said: 'He must be mistaken, that's all I can say.
'Is the number of your car AMG240?' asked Hannasyde.
'Yes. Yes, it is.'
'Then I don't think he was mistaken,' said Hannasyde.
'He must have been. He misread the number. Probably ANG, or - or AHG. In any case, I wasn't on the Hanborough Road at that hour.' He put up a hand to his head, and smoothed his sleek black hair. 'If that's all the case you've got against me I mean, this Constable's memory against my word, I don't think much of it. Not that I wish to be offensive, you know. You detectives have to try everything, of course, but—'
'Quite so, Mr Mesurier.' The Superintendent's even voice effectually silenced Mesurier. 'You are only being asked to account for your movements on Saturday night. If you were in your lodgings all evening you can no doubt produce a witness to corroborate the truth of that statement?'
'No, I don't think I can,' Mesurier said with an uneasy smile. 'My landlady and her husband always go out on Saturday evening, so they wouldn't know whether I was in or out.' He became aware of a piece of cotton on his sleeve, and picked it off, and began to fidget with it.
'That is unfortunate,' said Hannasyde, and once more consulted his notes. He said abruptly: 'You had an interview with Arnold Vereker at ten-thirty on Saturday morning. Is that correct?'
'Well, I wouldn't swear to the exact time, but I did see him on Saturday.'
'Was the interview an unpleasant one, Mr Mesurier?'
'Unpleasant? I don't quite -'
'Did a quarrel take place between you and Mr Vereker on that occasion?'
'Oh lord, no!' Mesurier cried. 'Vereker was a bit peeved that morning, but we did not quarrel. I mean, why should we?'
Hannasyde laid his notes down. 'I think,' he said, 'that we shall get along faster if I tell you at once, Mr Mesurier, that I am in possession of a certain letter concerning you which Mr Vereker wrote to the firm's solicitor on Saturday. You may read it, if you choose.'
Mesurier held out his hand for the letter, and said: 'This - this isn't Vereker's writing.'
'No, it is mine,' said Hannasyde. 'That is a copy of the original.'
Mesurier, a tinge of colour in his cheeks, read the letter, and put it down on the table. 'I don't know what you expect me to say. It's an absolute misstatement—'
'Mr Mesurier, please understand me! The particular point raised in that letter does not concern me. I am not investigating the accounts of this company, but the murder of its chairman. The information contained in the letter tells me that your interview with Arnold Vereker on Saturday morning cannot have been a pleasant one. In addition, I have already ascertained that both your voices were heard raised in anger. Now -'
'That bloody cat, Rose Miller!' exclaimed Mesurier, flushing. 'Of course, if you're going to believe what she says . ! She's always had her knife into me. It's a complete lie to say that we quarrelled. Vereker went for me, and I shan't attempt to deny that he was in
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