Spider's Web

"The truth?" Clarissa echoed, sounding very doubtful.

"The truth," Sir Rowland repeated with emphasis. "It's the only thing to do. I mean it. Seriously." He looked at her steadily and indeed seriously for a moment, and then left the room by the hall door. The Constable closed the door after him and resumed his seat for note-taking.

"Do sit down, Mrs. Hailsham-Brown," the Inspector invited her, indicating the sofa.

Clarissa smiled at him, but the look he returned was a stern one. She moved slowly to the sofa, sat, and waited for a moment before speaking. Then, "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm terribly sorry I told you all those lies. I didn't mean to." She did indeed sound rueful as she continued, "One gets into things, if you know what I mean?"

"I can't say that I do know," the Inspector replied coldly. "Now, please just give me the facts."

"Well, it's really all quite simple," she explained, ticking off the facts on her fingers as she spoke. "First, Oliver Costello left. Then, Henry came home. Then, I saw him off again in the car. Then, I came in here with the sandwiches."

"Sandwiches?" the Inspector queried.

"Yes. You see, my husband is bringing home a very important delegate from abroad."

The Inspector looked interested. "Oh, who is this delegate?"

"A Mr. Jones," Clarissa told him.

"I beg your pardon?" said the Inspector, with a look at his constable. "Mr. Jones. That's not his real name, but that's what we have to call him. It's all very hush-hush." Clarissa went on speaking. "They were going to have the sandwiches while they talked, and I was going to have mousse in the schoolroom."

The Inspector was looking perplexed. "Mousse in the... yes, I see," he murmured, sounding as though he did not see at all.

"I put the sandwiches down there," Clarissa told him, pointing to the stool, "and then I began tidying up, and I went to put a book back on the bookshelf and – then – and then I practically fell over it."

"You fell over the body?" the Inspector asked.

"Yes. It was here, behind the sofa. And I looked to see if it – if he was dead, and he was. It was Oliver Costello, and I didn't know what to do. In the end, I rang up the golf club, and I asked Sir Rowland, Mr. Birch and Jeremy Warrender to come back right away."

Leaning over the sofa, the Inspector asked coldly, "It didn't occur to you to ring up the police?"

"Well, it occurred to me, yes," Clarissa answered, "but then... well..." She smiled at him again. "Well, I didn't."

"You didn't," the Inspector murmured to himself. He walked away, looked at the Constable, lifted his hands despairingly, and then turned back to face Clarissa. "Why didn't you ring the police?" he asked her.

Clarissa was prepared for this. "Well, I didn't think it would be nice for my husband," she replied. "I don't know whether you know many people in the Foreign Office, Inspector, but they're frightfully unassuming. They like everything very quiet, not noticeable. You must admit that murders are rather noticeable."

"Quite so." was all that the Inspector could think of in response to this.

"I'm so glad you understand," Clarissa told him warmly and almost gushingly. She went on with her story, but her delivery became more and more unconvincing as she began to feel that she was not making headway. "I mean," she said, "he was quite dead, because I felt his pulse, so we couldn't do anything for him."

The Inspector walked about without replying. Following him with her eyes, Clarissa continued, "What I mean is, he might just as well be dead in Marsden Wood as in our drawing-room."

The Inspector turned sharply to face her. "Marsden Wood?" he asked abruptly. "How does Marsden Wood come into it?"

"That's where I was thinking of putting him," Clarissa replied.

The Inspector put a hand to the back of his head and looked at the floor as though seeking inspiration there. Then, shaking his head to clear it, he said firmly, "Mrs. Hailsham-Brown, have you never heard that a dead body, if there's any suggestion of foul play, should never be moved?"

"Of course I know that," Clarissa retorted. "It says so in all the detective stories. But, you see, this is real life."

The Inspector lifted his hands in despair.

"I mean," she continued, "real life's quite different."

The Inspector looked at Clarissa in incredulous silence for a moment, before asking her, "Do you realize the seriousness of what you're saying?"

"Of course I do," she replied, "and I'm telling you the truth. So, you see, in the end, I rang up the club and they all came back here."

"And you persuaded them to hide the body in that recess."

"No," Clarissa corrected him. "That came later. My plan, as I told you, was that they should take Oliver's body away in his car and leave the car in Marsden Wood."

"And they agreed?" The Inspector's tone was distinctly unbelieving.

"Yes, they agreed," said Clarissa, smiling at him.