}She went out hurriedly. Molly stood looking at Mr. Paravicini with a puzzled expression. He approached her with a kind of hop and skip.}
}"My charming hostess looks upset." Before she could prevent it, he picked up her hand and kissed it. "What is it, dear lady?"}
}Molly drew back a step. She was not sure that she. liked Mr. Paravicini much. He was leering at her like an elderly satyr.}
}"Everything is rather difficult this morning," she said lightly. "Because of the snow."}
}"Yes." Mr. Paravicini turned his head round to look out of the window. "Snow makes everything very }diffi}cult, does it not? Or else it makes things very easy."}
}"I don't know what you mean."}
}"No," he said thoughtfully. "There is quite a lot that you do not know. I think, for one thing, that you do not know very much about running a guest house."}
}THREE BLIND MICE 37}
}Molly's chin went up belligerently. "I daresay we don't. But we mean to make a go of it."}
}"Bravo, bravo."}
}"After all," Molly's voice betrayed slight anxiety, "I'm not such a very bad cook—"}
}"You are, without doubt, an enchanting cook," said Mr. Paravicini. *}
}What a nuisance foreigners }werei} thought Molly.}
}Perhaps Mr. Paravicini read her thoughts. At all events his manner changed. He spoke quietly and quite }seri}}ously}.}
}"May I give you a little word of warning, Mrs. Davis? You and your husband must not be too trusting, you know. Have you references with these guests of yours?"}
}"Is that usual?" Molly looked troubled. "I thought people just—just came."}
}"It is advisable always to know a little about the }peo}}ple} who sleep under your roof." He leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder in a minatory kind of way. "Take myself, for example. I turn up in the middle of the night. My car, I say, is overturned in a snowdrift. What do you know of me? Nothing at all. Perhaps you know nothing, either, of your other guests."}
}"Mrs. Boyle—" began Molly, but stopped as that lady herself re-entered the room, knitting in hand.}
}"The drawing-room is too cold. I shall sit in here." She marched toward the fireplace.}
}Mr. Paravicini pirouetted swiftly ahead of her. "Allow me to poke the fire for you."}
}Molly was struck, as she had been the night before, by the youthful jauntiness of his step. She had noticed that he always seemed careful to keep his back to the light, and now, as he knelt, poking the fire, she thought she saw the reason for it. Mr. Paravicini's face was cleverly but decidedly "made up."}
}38 THREE BLIND MICE}
}So the old idiot tried to make himself look younger than he was, did he? Well, he didn't succeed. He looked all his age and more. Only the youthful walk was incongruous. Perhaps that, too, had been carefully counter}feited}.}
}She was brought back from speculation to the disagreeable realities by the brisk entrance of Major Metcalf,}
}"Mrs. Davis. I'm afraid the pipes of the —}er}—" he lowered his voice modestly, "downstairs cloakroom are frozen."}
}"Oh, dear," groaned Molly. "What an awful day. First the police and then the pipes."}
}Mr. Paravicini dropped the poker into the grate with a clatter. Mrs. Boyle stopped knitting. Molly, looking at Major Metcalf, was puzzled by his sudden stiff }immo}}bility} and by the indescribable expression on his face. It was an expression she could not place. It was as though all emotion had been drained out of it, leaving something carved out of wood behind.}
}He said in a short, staccato voice, }"Police, }did you say?"}
}She was conscious that behind the stiff immobility of his demeanor, some violent emotion was at work. It might have been fear or alertness or excitement—but there was }something. This man, }she said to herself, }could be dangerous.}
}He said again, and this time his voice was just mildly curious, "What's that about the police?"}
}"They rang up," said Molly. "Just now. To say they're sending a "sergeant out here." She looked toward the window. "But I shouldn't think he'll even get here," she said hopefully.}
}"Why are they sending the police here?" He took a step nearer to her, but before she could reply the door opened, and Giles came in.}
}THREE BLIND MICE 39}
}"This ruddy coke's more than half stones," he said angrily. Then he added sharply, "Is anything the mat}ter}?"}
}Major Metcalf turned to him. "I hear the police are corning out here," he said. "Why?"}
}"Oh, that's all right," said Giles. "No one can ever get through in .this. Why, the drifts are five feet deep. The road's all banked up. Nobody will get here today."}
}And at that moment there came distinctly three loud taps on the window.}
}It startled them all. For a moment or two they did not locate the sound. It came with the emphasis and menace of a ghostly warning. And then, with a cry, Molly pointed to the French window. A man was standing there tapping on the pane, and the mystery of his arrival was explained by the fact that he wore skis.}
}With an exclamation, Giles crossed the room, fumbled with the catch, and threw open the French window.}
}"Thank you, sir," said the new arrival. He had a slight}ly} common, cheerful voice and a well-bronzed face.}
}"Detective Sergeant Trotter," he announced himself.}
}Mrs. Boyle peered at him over her knitting with }dis}favor. "You can't be a sergeant," she said disapprovingly. "You're too young."}
}The young man, who was indeed very young, looked affronted at this criticism and said in a slightly annoyed tone, "I'm not quite as young as I look, madam."}
}His eye roved over the group and picked out Giles.}
}"Are you Mr. Davis? Can I get these skis off and stow them somewhere?"}
}"Of course, come with me."}
}Mrs. Boyle said acidly as the door to the hall closed behind them, "I suppose that's what we pay our police force-for, nowadays, to go round enjoying themselves at winter sports."}
}40}
}THREE BLIND MICE}
}Paravicini had come close to Molly. There was quite a hiss in his voice as he said in a quick, low voice, "Why did you send for the police, Mrs. Davis?"}
}She recoiled a little before the steady malignity of his glance. This was a new Mr. Paravicini. For a moment she felt afraid. She said helplessly, "But I didn't. I didn't."}
}And then Christopher Wren came excitedly through the door, saying in a high penetrating whisper, "Who's that man in the hall? Where did he come from? So terribly hearty and all over snow."}
}Mrs. Boyle's voice boomed out over the click of her knitting-needles. "You may believe it or not, but that man is a policeman. A policeman—skiing!"}
}The final disruption of the lower classes had come, so her manner seemed to say.}
}Major Metcalf murmured to Molly, "Excuse me, Mrs. Davis, but may I use your telephone?"}
}"Of course, Major Metcalf."}
}He went over to the instrument, just as Christopher Wren said shrilly, "He's very handsome, don't you think so? I always think policemen are terribly attractive."}
}"Hullo, }hullo}—" Major Metcalf was rattling the }tele}phone irritably. He turned to Molly. "Mrs. Davis, this telephone is dead, quite dead."}
}"It was all right just now. I—*'}
}She was interrupted. Christopher Wren was laughing, a high, shrill, almost hysterical laugh. "So we're .quite cut off now. Quite cut off. That's funny, isn't it?"}
}"I don't see anything to laugh at," said Major Metcalf
stiffly. ,}
}"No, indeed," said Mrs. Boyle.}
}Christopher was still in fits of laughter. "It's a private joke of my own," he said. }"Hsh," }he put his finger to his lips, "the sleuth is coming."}
}41}
}THREE BLIND MICE}
}Giles came in with Sergeant Trotter. The latter had got rid of his skis and brushed-off the snow and was holding in his hand a large notebook and pencil. He brought an atmosphere of
unhurried judicial procedure}
}with him.}
}"Molly," said Giles, "Sergeant Trotter wants a word}
}with us alone." ,}
}Molly followed them both out of the room.}
}"We'll go in the study," Giles said.}
}They went into the small room at the back of the hall which was dignified by that name. Sergeant Trotter closed the door carefully behind him.}
}"What have we done, Sergeant?" Molly demanded}
}plaintively.}
}"Done?" Sergeant Trotter stared at her. Then he smiled broadly. "Oh," he said. "It's nothing of that kind, madam. I'm sorry if there's been a misapprehension of any kind. No, Mrs. Davis, it's something quite differ}ent}. It's more a matter of police protection, if you un}derstand} me."}
}Not understanding him in the least, they both looked}
}at him inquiringly.}
}Sergeant Trotter went on fluently. "It relates to the death of Mrs. Lyon, Mrs. Maureen Lyon, who was }mur}}dered} in London two days ago. You may have read about the case."}
}"Yes," said Molly.}
}"The first thing I want to know is if you were ac}quainted} with this Mrs. Lyon?"}
}"Never heard of her," said Giles, and Molly murmured}
}concurrence.}
}"Well, that's rather what we expected. But as a matter of fact Lyon wasn't the murdered woman's real name. She had a police record, and her fingerprints were on file, so we were able to identify her without any difficulty.}
}42}
}THREE }BLIND MICE}
}Her real name was Gregg; Maureen Gregg. Her late }hus}band, John Gregg, was a farmer who resided at Long-ridge Farm not very far from here. You may have heard of the Longridge Farm case."}
}The room was very still. Only one sound broke the stillness, a soft, unexpected }prop }as snow slithered off the roof and fell to the ground outside. It was a secret, almost sinister sound.}
}Trotter went on. "Three evacuee children were }bil}}leted} on the Greggs at Longridge Farm in 1940. One of those children subsequently died as the result of criminal neglect and ill-treatment. The case made quite a }sensa}}tion}, and the Greggs were both sentenced to terms of imprisonment. Gregg escaped on his way to prison, he stole a car and had a crash while trying to evade the police. He was killed outright. Mrs. Gregg served her sentence and was released two months ago."}
}"And now she's been murdered," said Giles. "Who do they think did it?"}
}But Sergeant Trotter was not to be hurried. "You remember the case, sir?" he asked.}
}Giles shook his head. "In 1940 J was a midshipman serving in the Mediterranean."}
}Trotter transferred his glance to Molly. "I—I do remember hearing about it, I think," said Molly rather breathlessly. "But why do you come to us? What have we to do with it?"}
}"It's a question of your being in danger, Mrs. Davis!" "Danger?" Giles spoke incredulously. "It's like this, sir. A notebook was picked up near the scene of the crime. In it were written two addresses. The first was Seventy-Four Culver Street." * "Where the woman was murdered?" Molly put in. "Yes, Mrs, Davis. The other address was Monkswell Manor."}
}THREE BLIND MICE 43}
}"What?" Molly's tone was incredulous. "But how ex}traordinary}."}
}"Yes. That's why Superintendent Hogben thought it imperative to find out if you knew of any connection between you, or between this house, and the Longridge Farm case."}
}"There's nothing—absolutely nothing," said Giles. "It must be some coincidence."}
}Sergeant Trotter said gently, "Superintendent Hogben }dosen't} think it is a coincidence. He'd have come himself if it had been at all possible. Under the weather }condi}}tions}, and as I'm an expert skier, he sent me with in}structions} to get full particulars of everyone in this house, to report back to him by phone, and to take all measures I thought expedient for the safety of the household."}
}Giles said sharply, "Safety? Good Lord, man, you don't think somebody is going to be killed }here?"}
}Trotter said apologetically, "I didn't want to upset the lady, but yes, that is just what Superintendent Hogben does think."}
}"But what earthly reason could there be—"}
}Giles broke off, and Trotter said, "That's just what I'm here to find out."}
}"But the whole thing's }crazy."}
}"Yes, sir. But it's because it's crazy that it's dangerous."}
}Molly said, "There's something more you haven't told us yet, isn't there, Sergeant?"}
}"Yes, madam. At the top of the page in the notebook was written, 'Three Blind Mice.}'} Pinned to the dead woman's body was a paper with 'This is the first' written on it. And below it a drawing }o}£ }three mice }and a bar of music. The music was the tune of the nursery rhyme 'Three Blind Mice.' "}
}Molly sang softly:}
}44 THREE BLIND MICE}
}"Three Blind Mice, See how they run.}
}They all ran after the farmer's wife! She-"}
}She broke off. "Oh, it's horrible—}horrible. }There were three children, weren't there?"}
}"Yes, Mrs. Davis. A boy of fifteen, a girl of fourteen, and the boy of twelve who died."}
}"What happened to the others?"}
}"The girl was, I believe, adopted by someone. We haven't been able to trace her. The boy would be just on twenty-three now. We've lost track of him. He was said to have always been a bit—queer. He joined up in the army at eighteen. Later he deserted. Since then he's disappeared. The army psychiatrist says definitely that he's not normal."}
}"You think that it was he who killed Mrs. Lyon?" Giles asked. "And that he's a homicidal maniac and may turn up here for some unknown reason?"}
}"We think that there must be a connection between someone here and the Longridge Farm business. Once we can establish what that connection is, we will be forearmed. Now you state, sir, that you yourself have no connection with that case. The same goes for you, Mrs. Davis?"}
}"I—oh, yes—yes."}
}"Perhaps you will tell me exactly who else there is in the house?"}
}They gave him the names. Mrs. Boyle. Major Metcalf. Mr. Christopher Wren. Mr. Paravicinv He wrote them down in his notebook.}
}"Servants?"}
}"We haven't any servants," said Molly. "And that reminds me, I must go and put the potatoes on."}
}THREE BLIND MICE 45}
}She left the study abruptly.}
}Trotter turned to Giles. "What do you know about}
}these people, sir?"}
}"I— We—" Giles paused. Then he said quietly, "Really, we don't know anything about them, Sergeant Trotter. Mrs. Boyle wrote from a Bournemouth hotel. Major Metcalf from Leamington, Mr. Wren from a private hotel in South Kensington. Mr. Paravicini just turned up out of the blue—or rather out of the white—his car overturned in a snowdrift near here. Still, I suppose they'll have identity cards, ration books, that sort of thing?" "I shall go into all that, of course." "In a way it's lucky that the weather is so awful," said Giles. "The murderer can't very well turn up in this, can he?"}
}"Perhaps he doesn't need to, Mr. Davis." "What do you mean?"}
}Sergeant Trotter hesitated for a moment and then he said, "You've got to consider, sir, that }he may be here already."}
}Giles stared at him. "What do you mean?"}
}"Mrs. Gregg was killed two days ago. }All your visitors here have arrived since then, Mr. Davis."}
}"Yes, but they'd booked beforehand—some time beforehand—except for Paravicini."}
}Sergeant Trotter sighed. His voice sounded tired. "These crimes were planned in advance."}
}"Crimes? But only one crime has happened yet. Why are you sure that there will be another?"}
}"That it will happen—no. I hope to prevent that. That it will be attempted, yes."}
}"But then—if you're right," Giles spoke excitedly, "there's only one person it could be. There's only one person who's the right age. }Christopher Wren!"}
}46 THREE }BLIND MICE}
br /> }Sergeant Trotter had joined Molly in the kitchen.}
}"I'd be glad, Mrs. Davis, if you would come with me to the library. I want to make a general statement to everyone. Mr. Davis has kindly gone to prepare the way—"}
}"All right—just let me finish these potatoes. Sometimes I wish Sir Walter Raleigh had never discovered the beastly things."}