Death of a Beauty Queen by E.R. Punshon Page A

list, and she had been forgotten – no place provided for her. Naturally, she raised Cain, so I told them for the Lord’s sake put her anywhere to keep her quiet, and when they said there wasn’t anywhere that wasn’t full up to the ceiling, I told them to shove her in my room – I had had it in my mind as a possible last resource all the time, of course.’
    â€˜I’m told Miss Mears was the favourite; everyone expected her to win and be crowned Brush Hill Beauty Queen,’ Mitchell said. ‘Rather odd she should be the very one to be overlooked?’
    â€˜Well, you see, that’s just why,’ Sargent explained again. ‘We ticked them all off to different rooms in order of entry, but I remember telling Mr Martin, I think it was, that Miss Mears was quite likely to be the winner, and she had better have accommodation near – you see, some of them we had to put right down in the cellar, five minutes’ walk from the stage. And so, I suppose, with her name being left out for the time, it got forgotten altogether, and we had to push her in at the last moment.’
    â€˜I see,’ said Mitchell. ‘Apparently the murderer knew just where to find her, too.’
    â€˜What struck me,’ observed Sargent, ‘is that perhaps it wasn’t that. Perhaps it was some fellow taking advantage of the fuss and confusion – I told you there was a regular pandemonium behind, all evening – to have a go at the safe in my room. Then, when he found her there, he knifed her and ran for it.’
    â€˜That’ll have to be considered,’ agreed Mitchell, ‘but there seems no reason for the knifing. If he hoped the room would be empty, and found her there instead, he need have merely said, “Beg pardon,” and gone away again. Was there anything in the safe?’
    â€˜Well, no – not to-night,’ Sargent confessed. ‘The takings are still in the box-office safe – we don’t generally transfer them till after the place closes.’
    â€˜There’s no sign of the safe in your room having been tampered with, and there’s nothing missing – except her own handbag. And she was already there in the room, so she can’t have disturbed a thief at work and been stabbed while he was making his escape. If there was a thief, there doesn’t seem any reason for him to have attacked her. I think you said she told you herself she didn’t want to have anything to do with Leslie Irwin. You were on fairly intimate terms with her, then?’
    â€˜Oh, no. Only in a business way,’ Sargent protested, his voice sullen and hesitating now, as if he did not wish even to admit that much. ‘She was very keen on getting a start, acting for the films. She came to see me here once or twice, to know if I could help her.’
    â€˜Did you try to in any way?’
    â€˜Well, of course, there wasn’t much I could do really. I told her – well, we talked it over once or twice, at dinner.’ He added defiantly, ‘We went up West, now and then, to have dinner together. I tried to choke her off, but in the end I had to promise to introduce her to some of the big people.’
    â€˜Did you do that?’
    â€˜Well, no. You see’ – Sargent stopped, and laughed in an embarrassed way – ‘I expect I blew a bit about my influence and the people I knew. Of course, I do know some, but just as an exhibitor. I don’t reckon any introduction I could give would be much use. That’s really what I wanted to explain – to let her down lightly, if you see what I mean, after she had got to expecting too much. That’s why I treated her to a dinner or two, to ease her off.’
    â€˜To ease her off,’ repeated Mitchell doubtfully, thinking the method was one hardly likely to be successful, and wondering greatly how much this story meant. ‘Was it at one of these dinners she told you she