Murder in the Telephone Exchange by June Wright Page B

looked all one colour, with his sandy hair and skin. I had had plenty of time for these observations. A long silence had fallen as Inspector Coleman read through his paper, frowning. I sighed and transferred my attention to a solitary fly buzzing about his head. It settled on his broad wet forehead, and he brushed it away with an impatient wave of his hand. At length he raised his eyes, and the three of us—Bertie Scott, Mac and myself—were compelled to run the gauntlet of his keen scrutiny. It took me all my control not to fidget my feet like a guilty schoolgirl. Up to that moment I had a clear enough conscience, but I began to wonder if perhaps there was not some little thing that I was trying to conceal. I think it was then that I realized what a very formidable body the Police Force was. I made a mental vow never to get mixed up with them again.
    â€œMiss MacIntyre,” he began and I saw Mac’s eyelids flicker. “I understandthat it was you who discovered the body. According to your statement you last noticed the deceased about 9.30 p.m. Wednesday night, that is yesterday evening, when she approached the sortagraph position where you were working.”
    â€œThat is so,” said Mac in a low voice. “She put a docket in the file at the side of the sortagraph.”
    â€œDid she speak to you at all?”
    Mac frowned. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œCome, Miss MacIntyre, my question required only yes or no.”
    She looked at him directly. “She muttered something. Whether it was meant for my ears or not, I don’t know.”
    â€œDid you catch what she said?” asked the Inspector. Mac hesitated.
    â€œI am not sure,” she replied cautiously, “but I thought she said ‘that’ll fix it’ or something similar.”
    â€œH’m,” said the Inspector, “it may or may not be significant. Was it an unusual phrase for Miss Compton to use?”
    A slight smile crossed Mac’s lips. “I have heard stronger remarks made during the rush time,” she said.
    I coughed suddenly, noticing at the same time Bertie’s hand crossing his mouth for a moment. Mac’s answer could tickle the risible faculties of telephone employees only, although I observed Sergeant Matheson lower his eyes quickly to the papers on the desk. Only the Inspector remained grave.
    â€œThat was the last time that you noticed her in the trunkroom?”
    â€œYes,” answered Mac, and I felt almost happy. The form of the Inspector’s question had not necessitated her lying. I looked around the room benevolently, and caught Sergeant Matheson’s keen eye fixed on me. As he leaned over and whispered to his superior, I cursed myself heartily for not keeping a poker face. The Inspector nodded. and turned again to Mac.
    â€œHave you anything that you wish to add to your statement, Miss MacIntyre?”
    There was another pause, while Mac stared at her hands. Presently the Inspector stirred impatiently.
    â€œWell, Miss MacIntyre?”
    â€œI was thinking,” she remarked coolly. “Perhaps it would help if I could see my statement?” She held out one small hand for it.
    â€œShe’s playing for time,” I thought anxiously, as Mac’s eyes travelled down the single sheet to her signature at the bottom. Only her left hand pleating a fold of her floral skirt betrayed her nervousness.
    I said to myself: ‘You’re no good at deceiving people, Mac, my sweet.Why don’t you tell them that you saw Sarah later. They’ll soon find out about the relief you had.’
    â€œThat is quite in order,” she said, returning the sheet, “I have nothing further to tell you.”
    It was my turn next.
    â€œI believe that you can swear to Miss Compton’s presence in the room at a later time than Miss MacIntyre can.”
    â€œCorrect,” I answered without hesitation. “I remember she queried a docket with