The Clock Strikes Twelve by Patricia Wentworth Page A

when a creature looks at you like that? And what business had she to smile at him when he had just called her a damned fool and said he would like to wring her neck? He let go of her abruptly as Brenda repeated her opening remark,
    “I do wish we knew what Aunt Grace was saying.”
    Superintendent Vyner, having finished with Miss Paradine, was considering whom he would see next. He had no intention of allowing her to rejoin the rest of the family, and had devised a plan for preventing it. Sergeant Manners was called in and told that Miss Paradine had kindly consented to make a statement. Even without previous instructions Manners could be relied upon to take an almost unbelievable time over this routine exercise, being a slow writer and very punctilious about getting everything down correctly. People who tried to hustle him came out of the encounter rather the worse for wear.
    The Superintendent’s own plan was to select the next person to be interviewed and proceed to the study. But he had only taken a couple of steps along the passage, when he heard the sound of voices from the hall. What he saw when he looked over the balustrade sent him downstairs without further ado. As he came down the last of the flight he encountered Mrs. Frank Ambrose and her sister coming up. Both ladies had made some attempt at mourning, Mrs. Ambrose wearing a fur coat and a small black turban, and Miss Pennington having on a grey tweed coat and skirt and a white scarf. She had nothing on her head but her own bright copper curls. The Superintendent stopped them, blocking the way.
    “Good-morning, Mrs. Ambrose. I am very sorry to be here on such a painful errand. Can you spare me a few minutes of your time? If you will do so, I can take your statement and get it over.”
    Irene’s eyes opened very widely indeed.
    “My statement?”
    “Why, yes, Mrs. Ambrose. In the case of a sudden death like this I would like to have a statement from everyone who was dining here last night. If you wouldn’t mind coming into the study—I needn’t detain you for more than a few minutes—”
    She opened her mouth and shut it again. Two steps higher up Lydia looked down at them. She was pale and she wore no make-up. Without it she appeared a little, insignificant creature. The thought passed through the Superintendent’s head. Then he met the steady grey-green eyes and changed his mind. She was all there, and she’d got spunk. Not so much change to be got out of Miss Lydia Pennington. He turned back to Irene, standing there with her mouth a little open, and considered that he’d picked the right sister. Well, he’d best get her along to the study before anyone had a chance of telling her what to say.
    Lydia’s voice pursued him.
    “Don’t you want me too?”
    It gave him a good deal of pleasure to reply,
    “Not at present, thank you, Miss Pennington.”
    Chapter 17
    Lydia ran on up the stairs, stood listening in the passage for a moment, and then, catching the sound of voices from Phyllida’s sitting-room, opened the door and walked in. Everyone had the same question. Frank, Brenda, and Dicky asked it.
    “Where’s Irene?”
    “With the large policeman. He met us in the hall and took her off to the study to make a statement. Why?”
    Brenda said, “That’s torn it!” and Dicky, “Gosh, Frank—hadn’t you better go down? You might be able to stop her if she starts talking too much.”
    Frank shrugged his shoulders.
    “Anyone ever tried to stop Irene when she wants to say anything? She doesn’t take hints—especially not from me. Besides, what would it look like? Vyner would be on to it in a moment.”
    “You ought to have rung her up,” said Dicky.
    “I tell you the telephone’s out of order.”
    “Well, someone managed to ring you up with the news, didn’t they?”
    “Albert rang the Brethertons next door and got them to take a message. Do you suggest that I should have got on to Jack Bretherton and asked him to tell Irene to hold