Free Lord Foxbridge Butts In by Robert Manners

were bruised, but the shoes were not on the body, which was a yard away from the bed. It was all a set-up.”
    “Could you tell if Pavel had been, er, interfered with before he died?” I wondered. What inducement would bring the boy to the Hyacinth late at night?
    “No, not that we could tell. The post-mortem will make sure, but he seemed to be in one piece except for the ligature marks. Some sort of twisted cord, probably silk.”
    “Like a dressing-gown belt?” I thought it seemed the likeliest weapon to find in a stranger’s bedroom.
    “Probably, but we didn’t find any such cord in the room.”
    “I do not own any dressing-gown,” the Count boasted, “Silly to put on clothes in one’s own room.”
    “He must’ve brought it with him,” I thought, “I just can’t think why he would, when a necktie or scarf from the Count’s own wardrobe would be much more damning.”
    “Stagecraft,” the Count gave us another one of his shrugs, one that told us he was dismayed at having to point out the obvious, “This was a crime carried out by a performing artist.”
    “I think I agree with you,” Twister sounded like he didn’t like agreeing with anyone, “It has a very stagey feel to it. There is something suggestive in a dressing-gown belt that seems rather more unseemly than a necktie, especially in conjunction with the night-shirt, indicating a sort of intimacy or depravity. It just looks nasty, somehow. But why ? There’s no point to making it look like a suicide in the first place.”
    “Actually, I think there may be,” I was looking at the window, which I had not closed nor covered in my consternation over hearing the Chief Inspector call me a gormless kid, and suddenly visualized the way the Count climbed across the courtyard like a monkey, “Have you made a habit of climbing the balconies in the courtyard, Andrzej? You’re very good at it. Seeing you do it is what gave me the idea to climb into your room from the gallery.”
    “I do it all the time,” the Count smiled and lifted his head proudly, “I do it everywhere I go. It is the most wonderful exercise to climb buildings, it improves the balance and the tone better than any similar activities in a gymnasium.”
    “And did Jacques know about this hobby of yours?” I pursued.
    “Of course,” the Count looked perplexed, “Everyone knows. Well, everyone with whom I’ve worked, or shared rooms.”
    “There!” I crowed triumphantly, “He knew that if Andrzej had killed someone in his room, he could make it look like a suicide, and turn it into a locked-room mystery, by barricading the door and then climbing out of the room by the window. You can latch a window from the outside with a bit of string or wire looped around the handle, but you wouldn’t be able to bolt it; when I got there, the window was latched but not bolted. And it would implicate Andrzej immediately once it was known that he was able to climb around the courtyard with ease. There’s a winter-garden down below us, he could have been seen by anybody. Only a matter of time before one of the staff spilled that tidbit to the police.”
    Right on cue, Pond stepped into the room and cleared his throat respectfully.
    “Pond!” I cried out, “Come in, have a seat, tell us all you learned.”
    “I should prefer to stand, my lord,” he came into the room and stood like a soldier behind an armchair, the one Twister wasn’t sitting in.
    “Well, out with it. What and who was seen?”
    “Well, my lord, I discovered from the night porter that he was not entirely forthcoming when questioned by the police. I was shocked to hear it, my lord,” this was obviously for Twister’s benefit, “but I pretended sympathy and he confided in me. The young Russian gentleman arrived here just after midnight and asked for Count Gryzynsky. The porter phoned the Count’s room and was told to send the visitor up. He did not like to tell the police that, for fear of causing trouble for the