1.40, nobody except Mr. Lee had entered the garden passage or the tapestry room.
Finally, the circle was closed by William Hoggarty, the gardener. He asserted with the most obvious sincerity that from 1.30 to 1.40 he had been stationed in the garden passage to receive the waits and marshal them to their places. During that time, no one had come down the stair from the picture-gallery or entered the tapestry room. From 1.40 onwards, he had sat beside Mr. Dodd in the passage and nobody had passed him except Mr. Lee.
These points being settled, there was no further reason to doubt Jim Playfair’s evidence, since his partners were able to prove his whereabouts during the waltz, the fox-trot and the intervening interval. At 1:28 or just after, he had seen Charmian Grayle alive. At 2:20 she had been found dead in the tapestry room. During that interval, no one had been seen to enter the room, and every person had been accounted for.
At 6 o’clock, the exhausted guests had been allowed to go to their rooms, accommodation being provided in the house for those who, like the Bellinghams, had come from a distance, since the Superintendent had announced his intention of interrogating them all afresh later in the day.
This new inquiry produced no result. Lord Peter Wimsey did not take part in it. He and Bunter (who was an expert photographer) occupied themselves in photographing the ballroom and adjacent rooms and corridors from every imaginable point of view, for, as Lord Peter said, “You never know what may turn out to be relevant.” Late in the afternoon they retired together to the cellar, where with dishes, chemicals and safe-light hastily procured from the local chemist, they proceeded to develop the plates.
“That’s the lot, my lord,” observed Bunter at length, sloshing the final plate in the water and tipping it into the hypo. “You can switch the light on now, my lord.”
Wimsey did so, blinking in the sudden white glare.
“A very hefty bit of work,” said he. “Hullo! What’s that plateful of blood you’ve got there?”
“That’s the red backing they put on these plates, my lord, to obviate halation. You may have observed me washing it off before inserting the plate in the developing-dish. Halation, my lord, is a phenomenon—”
Wimsey was not attending.
“But why didn’t I notice it before?” he demanded. “That stuff looked to me exactly like clear water.”
“So it would, my lord, in the red safe-light. The appearance of whiteness is produced,” added Bunter sententiously, “by the reflection of all the available light. When all the available light is red, red and white are, naturally, indistinguishable. Similarly, in a green light—”
“Good God!” said Wimsey. “Wait a moment, Bunter, I must think this out. … Here! damn those plates—let them be. I want you upstairs.”
He led the way at a canter to the ballroom, dark now, with the windows in the south corridor already curtained and only the dimness of the December evening filtering through the high windows of the clerestory above the arcading. He first turned on the great chandeliers in the ballroom itself. Owing to the heavy oak panelling that rose to the roof at both ends and all four angles of the room, these threw no light at all upon the staircase at the lower end of the north corridor. Next, he turned on the light in the four-sided hanging lantern, which hung in the north corridor above and between the two settees. A vivid shaft of green light immediately flooded the lower half of the corridor and the staircase; the upper half was bathed in strong amber, while the remaining sides of the lantern showed red towards the ballroom and blue towards the corridor wall.
Wimsey shook his head.
“Not much room for error there. Unless—I know! Run, Bunter, and ask Miss Carstairs and Mr. Playfair to come here a moment.”
While Bunter was gone, Wimsey borrowed a stepladder from the kitchen and carefully examined the fixing of the
Finally, the circle was closed by William Hoggarty, the gardener. He asserted with the most obvious sincerity that from 1.30 to 1.40 he had been stationed in the garden passage to receive the waits and marshal them to their places. During that time, no one had come down the stair from the picture-gallery or entered the tapestry room. From 1.40 onwards, he had sat beside Mr. Dodd in the passage and nobody had passed him except Mr. Lee.
These points being settled, there was no further reason to doubt Jim Playfair’s evidence, since his partners were able to prove his whereabouts during the waltz, the fox-trot and the intervening interval. At 1:28 or just after, he had seen Charmian Grayle alive. At 2:20 she had been found dead in the tapestry room. During that interval, no one had been seen to enter the room, and every person had been accounted for.
At 6 o’clock, the exhausted guests had been allowed to go to their rooms, accommodation being provided in the house for those who, like the Bellinghams, had come from a distance, since the Superintendent had announced his intention of interrogating them all afresh later in the day.
This new inquiry produced no result. Lord Peter Wimsey did not take part in it. He and Bunter (who was an expert photographer) occupied themselves in photographing the ballroom and adjacent rooms and corridors from every imaginable point of view, for, as Lord Peter said, “You never know what may turn out to be relevant.” Late in the afternoon they retired together to the cellar, where with dishes, chemicals and safe-light hastily procured from the local chemist, they proceeded to develop the plates.
“That’s the lot, my lord,” observed Bunter at length, sloshing the final plate in the water and tipping it into the hypo. “You can switch the light on now, my lord.”
Wimsey did so, blinking in the sudden white glare.
“A very hefty bit of work,” said he. “Hullo! What’s that plateful of blood you’ve got there?”
“That’s the red backing they put on these plates, my lord, to obviate halation. You may have observed me washing it off before inserting the plate in the developing-dish. Halation, my lord, is a phenomenon—”
Wimsey was not attending.
“But why didn’t I notice it before?” he demanded. “That stuff looked to me exactly like clear water.”
“So it would, my lord, in the red safe-light. The appearance of whiteness is produced,” added Bunter sententiously, “by the reflection of all the available light. When all the available light is red, red and white are, naturally, indistinguishable. Similarly, in a green light—”
“Good God!” said Wimsey. “Wait a moment, Bunter, I must think this out. … Here! damn those plates—let them be. I want you upstairs.”
He led the way at a canter to the ballroom, dark now, with the windows in the south corridor already curtained and only the dimness of the December evening filtering through the high windows of the clerestory above the arcading. He first turned on the great chandeliers in the ballroom itself. Owing to the heavy oak panelling that rose to the roof at both ends and all four angles of the room, these threw no light at all upon the staircase at the lower end of the north corridor. Next, he turned on the light in the four-sided hanging lantern, which hung in the north corridor above and between the two settees. A vivid shaft of green light immediately flooded the lower half of the corridor and the staircase; the upper half was bathed in strong amber, while the remaining sides of the lantern showed red towards the ballroom and blue towards the corridor wall.
Wimsey shook his head.
“Not much room for error there. Unless—I know! Run, Bunter, and ask Miss Carstairs and Mr. Playfair to come here a moment.”
While Bunter was gone, Wimsey borrowed a stepladder from the kitchen and carefully examined the fixing of the
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