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Colonel Melchett. “Or isn’t he?”
    Superintendent Harper shook his head.
    â€œWe’ve got a long way to go,” he said.

Six
    I
    N either the night porter nor the barman proved helpful. The night porter remembered ringing up to Miss Keene’s room just after midnight and getting no reply. He had not noticed Mr. Bartlett leaving or entering the hotel. A lot of gentlemen and ladies were strolling in and out, the night being fine. And there were side doors off the corridor as well as the one in the main hall. He was fairly certain Miss Keene had not gone out by the main door, but if she had come down from her room, which was on the first floor, there was a staircase next to it and a door out at the end of the corridor, leading on to the side terrace. She could have gone out of that unseen easily enough. It was not locked until the dancing was over at two o’clock.
    The barman remembered Mr. Bartlett being in the bar the preceding evening but could not say when. Somewhere about the middle of the evening, he thought. Mr. Bartlett had sat against the wall and was looking rather melancholy. He did not know how long he was there. There were a lot of outside guests coming andgoing in the bar. He had noticed Mr. Bartlett but he couldn’t fix the time in any way.
    II
    As they left the bar, they were accosted by a small boy of about nine years old. He burst immediately into excited speech.
    â€œI say, are you the detectives? I’m Peter Carmody. It was my grandfather, Mr. Jefferson, who rang up the police about Ruby. Are you from Scotland Yard? You don’t mind my speaking to you, do you?”
    Colonel Melchett looked as though he were about to return a short answer, but Superintendent Harper intervened. He spoke benignly and heartily.
    â€œThat’s all right, my son. Naturally interests you, I expect?”
    â€œYou bet it does. Do you like detective stories? I do. I read them all, and I’ve got autographs from Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie and Dickson Carr and H. C. Bailey. Will the murder be in the papers?”
    â€œIt’ll be in the papers all right,” said Superintendent Harper grimly.
    â€œYou see, I’m going back to school next week and I shall tell them all that I knew her—really knew her well. ”
    â€œWhat did you think of her, eh?”
    Peter considered.
    â€œWell, I didn’t like her much. I think she was rather a stupid sort of girl. Mum and Uncle Mark didn’t like her much either. Only Grandfather. Grandfather wants to see you, by the way. Edwards is looking for you.”
    Superintendent Harper murmured encouragingly:
    â€œSo your mother and your Uncle Mark didn’t like Ruby Keene much? Why was that?”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. She was always butting in. And they didn’t like Grandfather making such a fuss of her. I expect,” said Peter cheerfully, “that they’re glad she’s dead.”
    Superintendent Harper looked at him thoughtfully. He said: “Did you hear them—er—say so?”
    â€œWell, not exactly. Uncle Mark said: ‘Well, it’s one way out, anyway,’ and Mums said: ‘Yes, but such a horrible one,’ and Uncle Mark said it was no good being hypocritical.”
    The men exchanged glances. At that moment a respectable, clean-shaven man, neatly dressed in blue serge, came up to them.
    â€œExcuse me, gentlemen. I am Mr. Jefferson’s valet. He is awake now and sent me to find you, as he is very anxious to see you.”
    Once more they went up to Conway Jefferson’s suite. In the sitting room Adelaide Jefferson was talking to a tall, restless man who was prowling nervously about the room. He swung round sharply to view the newcomers.
    â€œOh, yes. Glad you’ve come. My father-in-law’s been asking for you. He’s awake now. Keep him as calm as you can, won’t you? His health’s not too good. It’s a wonder, really, that this