Spider's Web

"I know, Pippa," Sir Rowland told her. "But you didn't kill him. When you stuck the pin through that wax figure, it was your hate and your fear of him that you killed in that way. You're not afraid of him and you don't hate him any longer. Isn't that true?"

Pippa turned to him. "Yes, it's true," she admitted. "But I did see him." She glanced over the back of the sofa. "I came down here and I saw him lying there, dead." She leaned her head on Sir Rowland's chest. "I did see him, Uncle Roly."

"Yes, dear, you did see him," Sir Rowland told her gently. "But it wasn't you who killed him." She looked up at him anxiously, and he continued, "Now, listen to me, Pippa. Somebody hit him over the head with a big stick. You didn't do that, did you?"

"Oh, no," said Pippa, shaking her head vigorously. "No, not a stick." She turned to Clarissa. "You mean a golf stick like Jeremy had?"

Jeremy laughed. "No, not a golf club, Pippa, " he explained. "Something like that big stick that's kept in the hall stand."

"You mean the one that used to belong to Mr. Sellon, the one Miss Peake calls a knobkerrie?" Pippa asked.

Jeremy nodded.

"Oh, no," Pippa told him. "I wouldn't do anything like that. I couldn't." She turned back to Sir Rowland. "Oh, Uncle Roly, I wouldn't have killed him really."

"Of course you wouldn't," Clarissa intervened in a voice of calm common sense. "Now come along, darling, you eat up your chocolate mousse and forget all about it." She picked up the dish and offered it to Pippa. However, Pippa refused it with a shake of her head, and Clarissa replaced the dish on the stool. She and Sir Rowland helped Pippa to lie down on the sofa, Clarissa took Pippa's hand, and Sir Rowland stroked the child's hair affectionately.

"I don't understand a word of all this," Miss Peake announced. "What is that book, anyway?" she asked Jeremy, who was now glancing through it.

"'How to Bring a Murrain on Your Neighbour's Cattle.' Does that attract you, Miss Peake?" he replied. "I dare say with a little adjusting you could bring blackspot to your neighbour's roses."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the gardener said brusquely.

"Black magic," Jeremy explained.

"I'm not superstitious, thank goodness," she snorted dismissively, moving away from him.

Hugo, who had been attempting to follow the train of events, now confessed, "I'm in a complete fog."

"Me, too," Miss Peake agreed, tapping him on the shoulder. "So I'll just have a peep and see how the boys in blue are getting on." With another of her boisterous laughs, she went out into the hall.

Sir Rowland looked around at Clarissa, Hugo and Jeremy. "Now where does that leave us?" he wondered aloud.

Clarissa was still recovering from the revelations of the previous few minutes.

"What a fool I've been," she exclaimed confusedly. "I should have known Pippa couldn't possibly... I didn't know anything about this book. Pippa said she killed him and I... I thought it was true."

Hugo got to his feet. "Oh, you mean that you thought Pippa..."

"Yes, darling," Clarissa interrupted him urgently and emphatically to stop him from saying any more. But Pippa, fortunately, was now sleeping peacefully on the sofa.

"Oh, I see," said Hugo. "That explains it. Good God!"

"Well, we'd better go to the police now, and tell them the truth at last," Jeremy suggested.

Sir Rowland shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't know," he murmured. "Clarissa has already told them three different stories – "

"No. Wait," Clarissa interrupted suddenly. "I've just had an idea. Hugo, what was the name of Mr. Sellon's shop?"

"It was just an antique shop," Hugo replied, vaguely.

"Yes, I know that," Clarissa exclaimed impatiently. "But what was it called?"

"What do you mean – 'What was it called?'"

"Oh, dear, you are being difficult," Clarissa told him. "You said it earlier, and I want you to say it again. But I don't want to tell you to say it, or say it for you."

Hugo, Jeremy and Sir Rowland all looked at one another. "Do you know what the blazes the girl is getting at, Roly?" Hugo asked plaintively.

"I've no idea," replied Sir Rowland. "Try us again, Clarissa."

Clarissa looked exasperated. "It's perfectly simple," she insisted. "What was the name of the antique shop in Maidstone?"

"It hadn't got a name," Hugo replied. "I mean, antique shops aren't called 'Seaview' or anything."

"Heaven give me patience," Clarissa muttered between clenched teeth. Speaking slowly and distinctly, and pausing after each word, she asked him again, "What – was – written – up – over – the – door?"

"Written up? Nothing," said Hugo. "What should be written up? Only the names of the owners, 'Sellon and Brown,' of course."

"At last!" Clarissa cried jubilantly. "I thought that was what you said before, but I wasn't sure. Sellon and Brown. My name is Hailsham-Brown." She looked at the three men in turn, but they merely stared back at her with total incomprehension written on their faces.