Free Landed Gently by Alan Hunter

their hearts. Somerhayes had shown a liking for him from the outset.
    ‘Must interrupt, m’dear, but what about a feller called Hugh Johnson … ? What was his attitude to Earle?’
    ‘Johnson?’ Mrs Page hesitated awkwardly. ‘Well, he might have been the exception, I suppose. He’s a Welshman, you know … very clever and all that, but rather … well, introspective, I suppose you’d call it. He’s apt to sulk a bit.’
    ‘Nurse a grudge, would he?’
    ‘I don’t think he would forget one in a hurry.’
    ‘Sort of feller who might turn nasty?’
    ‘I … wouldn’t like to say that. He’s quick, of course, soon fires up and all that … and sullen – that’s the word for it. He broods over things for days. But he can be a dear, too, when he likes.’
    ‘Hah. And he took against Earle?’
    ‘He was a little surly towards him. He felt that Earle had displaced him with Brass. To a certain extent that was true.’
    ‘Complained about it, did he?’
    ‘Oh no, Hugh was much too proud to complain. But he had some things to say about Americans being all talk, and cutting things like that. And he used to snub Earle unmercifully, which was a sheer waste of time … Earle being …’
    Mrs Page broke off, and from the sinking movement of her head as well as the sudden rise in her voice,Gently judged that she was again struggling on the verge of tears.
    ‘There, there,’ mumbled Sir Daynes. ‘Shocking affair, m’dear, shocking. Take your time. Got all day. Dyson, stub that confounded cigar-butt … Smoke’s getting in the lady’s eyes.’
    The head rose again, and after a pause Mrs Page was ready to go on. Once more the short-hand constable’s pencil commenced whisking down the page. They had been very much looking forward to having Earle with them at Christmas. At first there was some doubt as to whether he could get leave, but the easing of the current political tension had enabled the Sculton CO to grant one or two passes, Earle’s amongst them. He had long planned his day of Christmas shopping in London. He had wanted Mrs Page to accompany him, but she had been prevented from doing so by the necessity of clearing up the business-end of the workshop before the Christmas break.
    On the morning after his arrival he had been at his most exuberant; he had dominated the breakfast-table with his account of his visit to London, and directly afterwards had dragged Les and herself away to the workshop to help him set up the loom for his famous cartoon. After lunch he had wanted to stretch his limbs and look at the park. She had consented to walk with him as far as the folly, from which there was a striking prospect of the house and the lake, and on the way he had talked a great deal about his home in Missouri, and about his people, and about the sort of Christmas theywould be spending there. He had also talked of a projected visit to Missouri that he was trying to persuade Les to make with him in the autumn, and which he wanted her to undertake also. His lively behaviour at the party Sir Daynes himself had been witness to. When the party broke up, the various members of it had retired in the order already vouched for, and she had first heard of the tragedy when her personal maid brought in the tea at eight o’clock.
    ‘Fine,’ exclaimed Sir Daynes at the end of the recital. ‘That’s all we wanted to know, m’dear, you’ve given us a perfect model of a statement. Wish everyone could be so precise, eh? Lots of people can’t. But that’s all we want to know, and you can run along now …’
    The words froze on the baronet’s lips as he became aware of Gently looming up on his flank.
    ‘Yes, Gently?’ he demanded sharply.
    ‘Just one small point …’
    Sir Daynes drew in his breath wickedly, but he could think of no good reason for applying a veto.
    ‘Well?’ he rapped.
    ‘At the party last night … Mrs Page, his lordship and the deceased were alone for a short time. Could Mrs Page oblige us with a