“Mr. Burrows had rather a difficult time with Sir Gervase, I should imagine. I think he was glad that our work on the book gave him a little more breathing space. Colonel Bury was always charming. He was devoted to Lady Chevenix-Gore and he managed Sir Gervase quite well. Mr. Trent, Mr. Forbes and Miss Cardwell have only been here a few days, so of course I don’t know much about them.”
“Thank you, mademoiselle. And what about Captain Lake, the agent?”
“Oh, he’s very nice. Everybody liked him.”
“Including Sir Gervase?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve heard him say Lake was much the best agent he’d had. Of course, Captain Lake had his difficulties with Sir Gervase, too—but he managed pretty well on the whole. It wasn’t easy.”
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. He murmured, “There was something—something—that I had in mind to ask you—some little thing . . . What was it now?”
Miss Lingard turned a patient face towards him.
Poirot shook his head vexedly.
“Tchah! It is on the tip of my tongue.”
Major Riddle waited a minute or two, then as Poirot continued to frown perplexedly, he took up the interrogation once more.
“When was the last time you saw Sir Gervase?”
“At teatime, in this room.”
“What was his manner then? Normal?”
“As normal as it ever was.”
“Was there any sense of strain among the party?”
“No, I think everybody seemed quite ordinary.”
“Where did Sir Gervase go after tea?”
“He took Mr. Burrows with him into the study, as usual.”
“That was the last time you saw him?”
“Yes. I went to the small morning room where I worked, and typed a chapter of the book from the notes I had gone over with Sir Gervase, until seven o’clock, when I went upstairs to rest and dress for dinner.”
“You actually heard the shot, I understand?”
“Yes, I was in this room. I heard what sounded like a shot and I went out into the hall. Mr. Trent was there, and Miss Cardwell. Mr. Trent asked Snell if there was champagne for dinner, and made rather a joke of it. It never entered our heads to take the matter seriously, I’m afraid. We felt sure it must have been a car backfiring.”
Poirot said:
“Did you hear Mr. Trent say, ‘There’s always murder?’ ”
“I believe he did say something like that—joking, of course.”
“What happened next?”
“We all came in here.”
“Can you remember the order in which the others came down to dinner?”
“Miss Chevenix-Gore was the first, I think, and then Mr. Forbes. Then Colonel Bury and Lady Chevenix-Gore together, and Mr. Burrows immediately after them. I think that was the order, but I can’t be quite sure because they more or less came in all together.”
“Gathered by the sound of the first gong?”