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South African War, that's it. Ask him about the South African War, that will tame him.”
    And pondering these good resolutions in his mind Mr Enderby sauntered back to the Three Crowns.

The Sittaford Mystery

Chapter 9
    THE LAURELS
    It takes about half an hour from Exhampton to Exeter by train. At five minutes to twelve Inspector Narracott was ringing the front door bell of The Laurels.
    The Laurels was a somewhat dilapidated house, badly in need of a new coat of paint. The garden round it was unkempt and weedy and the gate hung askew on its hinges.
    “Not too much money about here,” thought Inspector Narracott to himself. “Evidently hard up.”
    He was a very fair-minded man, but inquiries seemed to indicate that there was very little possibility of the Captain's having been done to death by an enemy. On the other hand, four people, as far as he could make out, stood to gain a considerable sum by the old man's death. The movements of each of these four people had got to be inquired into. The entry in the hotel register was suggestive, but after all Pearson was quite a common name. Inspector Narracott was anxious not to come to any decision too rapidly and to keep a perfectly open mind whilst covering the preliminary ground as rapidly as possible.
    A somewhat slatternly looking maid answered the bell. “Good afternoon,” said Inspector Narracott. “I want to see Mrs Gardner, please. It is in connection with the death of her brother, Captain Trevelyan, at Exhampton.”
    He purposely did not hand his official card to the maid. The mere fact of his being a police officer, as he knew by experience, would render her awkward and tongue-tied.
    “She's heard of her brother's death?” asked the Inspector casually as the maid drew back to let him into the hall.
    “Yes, got a telegram she did. From the lawyer, Mr Kirkwood.”
    “Just so,” said Inspector Narracott.
    The maid ushered him into the drawing-room - a room which, like the outside of the house, was badly in need of a little money spent upon it, but yet, had with all that an air of charm which the Inspector felt without being able to particularize the why and wherefore of it.
    “Must have been a shock to your mistress,” he observed. The girl seemed a little vague about that, he noticed. “She didn't see much of him,” was her answer.
    “Shut the door and come here,” said Inspector Narracott. He was anxious to try the effect of a surprise attack.
    “Did the telegram say that it was murder?” he asked.
    “Murder!”
    The girl's eyes opened wide, a mixture of horror and intense enjoyment in them. “Murdered was he?”
    “Ah!” said Inspector Narracott, “I thought you hadn't heard that. Mr Kirkwood didn't want to break the news too abruptly to your mistress, but you see, my dear - what is your name, by the way?”
    “Beatrice, sir.”
    “Well, you see, Beatrice, it will be in the evening papers tonight.”
    “Well, I never,” said Beatrice. “Murdered. 'orrible, isn't it? Did they bash his head in or shoot him or what?”
    The Inspector satisfied her passion for detail, then added casually, “I believe there was some idea of your mistress going over to Exhampton yesterday afternoon. But I suppose the weather was too bad for her.”
    “I never heard anything about it, sir,” said Beatrice. “I think you must have made a mistake. The mistress went out in the afternoon to do some shopping and then she went to the Pictures.”
    “What time did she get in?”
    “About six o'clock.”
    So that let Mrs Gardner out.
    “I don't know much about the family,” he went on in a casual tone. “Is Mrs Gardner a widow?”
    “Oh, no, sir, there's master.”
    “What does he do?”
    “He doesn't do anything,” said Beatrice staring. “He can't. He's an invalid.”
    “An invalid, is he? Oh, I'm sorry. I hadn't heard.”
    “He can't walk. He lies in bed all day. Got a nurse always in the house we have. It isn't every girl what stays on with an 'ospital