IT looked as though the strange and tragic events that started in Sunbay when George Michelmore introduced his alleged bride were also to end there. In addition to those whom Roger had mentioned for Chief Inspector Grimsby's inquisition, two others were present.
All were assembled in the lounge. Pearl and Peter Skelton sat together on one of the settees, Emerald and Victor Gore Black had another. Both the girls wore mourning for their brother. Jasper in his corduroy trousers and tweed jacket sprawled in an easy chair. Old Nan and Teague sat gingerly on high-backed seats near the window. One of the additional two, known to them all, was the family solicitor, Mr. Watson.
It had been Roger's idea to ask him. Grimsby at first demurred, but Roger pointed out that some might refuse to speak in the lawyer's absence and in any case he would have to hear sooner or later what the evidence was. If he saw any flaw in it, they might as well know. Roger may have made the suggestion for his own sake; it should help him to preserve his attitude of neutrality. Mr. Watson sat at a table with his brief-case and some paper in front of him for notes.
The other unexpected arrival, a short, stout, clean-shaven, middle-aged man, was a stranger to most of them. When Pearl went across and shook hands with him, Roger guessed he was the elusive Gaston Bidaut, Adelaide's lawful husband. How Grimsby had managed to produce him he had no idea, but they were soon to hear.
The Chief Inspector sat at the head of the table, looking very formidable. A shorthand-writer was beside him, opposite to the solicitor. Detective-Sergeant Allenby was near Teague by the window. Roger had a seat between the two settees.
"I suppose we can smoke," Jasper drawled, as he lit a cigarette. He offered his case to his sisters, but they declined. Grimsby looked his disapproval but he could hardly object to a man smoking in his own home.
"You know why we are here," Grimsby began. "We are concerned with the death by poisoning of Adelaide Bidaut, better known to you as Adelaide Michelmore. Since the inquest was adjourned fresh evidence has come into our hands that will I think clear the matter up. First, however, I will introduce to you M. Gaston Bidaut, the dead woman's legal husband."
He indicated the stranger, at whom they all looked with interest and curiosity. If Jasper had recognised him he made no sign of it. Bidaut did not quite know what he ought to do, whether to rise and bow, or not. He shuffled a bit in his chair but remained seated, and silent.
"I am making no charge against M. Bidaut. He was apprehended at Southampton as he was about to leave the country, and was brought here to assist my investigations. He would have saved himself and us a good deal of trouble if he had come forward when asked to do so. His presence, however, is useful as it enables us to clear up one of the complications of the case. I refer to the missing diamonds, the star and ear-rings, belonging to his wife."
They were not all aware of what had happened to them and listened intently. It was perhaps a respite from more serious things. Grimsby addressed himself to Bidaut.
"I believe you called on your wife on the day before she left her home for the hotel where she died. Will you tell us about that?"
Bidaut looked a little uncertainly round the room. Perhaps a kind smile from Pearl reassured him.
"I knew the man she went away with was dead," he began. "Monsieur Jasper told me that, though he did not say the man was his father. I came to find her, to take her home with me. I still loved her and would have forgiven her. She refused to come."
He spoke slowly but naturally, with little gesture. Possibly his brief stay in his native land, where he had to pass as an Englishman, had helped in that.
"And the diamonds?" Grimsby prompted.
"She asked me to take them. She said Mr. Michelmore had left her much money and the diamonds had brought her bad luck. She pressed them on me. I did not want them but I took them, thinking they might bring her back to me."
"And then you heard she was dead and we wanted the diamonds, and you, what did you do?"
"I was frightened. I thought if you found me with them you might think I had killed her. I live in France and I do not understand your ways. I decided to give them back to M'selle Pearl, who had been friendly to her. She will tell you that is true."
He looked at Pearl. So did they all.
"Quite true," she said. "I took them to Mr. Grimsby and told him so."
"Have you anything else to say?" Grimsby asked.
Bidaut shrugged. "I hope you will catch the wicked person who caused Adelaide's death. I thought I could get home. You caught me. I know nothing more."
Then Mr. Watson thought it was time he spoke up for a client. "Those diamonds," he said, "are a free and unconditional gift to Miss Pearl?"
"You have my word. If my wife had any more jewels, they were not from me. I do not want them. I give them all to M'selle Pearl."
"Deceitful cat!" Emerald whispered to Gore-Black.
Pearl did not hear her. Possibly only Roger Bennion, who knew something of lip-reading, was aware of the venomous remark.
"I thank Monsieur Bidaut," Pearl said, "but I do not wish to have them. It would be better if they went to some charity. The diamonds are different; they were our mother's."
"That settles that," Grimsby said briskly. "I think Monsieur Bidaut should hear what is to follow, as we now come to the question of his wife's death and who is responsible for it."
A quiver of tension seemed to pass through the room. It was broken only by the snap of a lighter as Jasper lit another cigarette.
"As you know," the detective began, particularly addressing Mr. Watson, "it was shown at the inquest that the death was caused by cyanide poisoning. There seemed no reason to suspect suicide and there were several people who gained very substantially by this woman's death. Yet for some time we could not discover how the poison had been administered. Now we know. I will ask you to believe that there is ample proof for what I am about to say, which proof will be duly produced when the Court re-assembles."
"This is somewhat irregular," Mr. Watson remarked, as he paused. "But I am listening."
"I think Monsieur Bidaut will confirm the evidence of other witnesses, that his wife had a habit of licking her lips when she spoke or ate?"
Bidaut looked surprised. "Ma foi, it is true," he said.
"The murderer noticed it too," the detective said grimly. "There is now no doubt it was murder. Madame Bidaut's lipstick was poisoned and that brought about her death. Traces of the poison still remained on her lips."
"For that, proof will be forthcoming?" Mr. Watson enquired.
"It certainly will," Grimsby replied. "Certified analyses by two doctors." He paused a moment and then, glancing at the two in the window, he went on: "My suspicions fell at first on Teague, the gardener, and Hannah Wood, the house keeper, known to most of you as Nan. Teague had the cyanide in his shed, "
"Everyone knowed that," the gardener muttered.
"Perhaps so, but it may not have been easy for them to get it without your knowledge. Hannah Wood packed Madame Bidaut's bags for her. She was the only link between her and the family. She prepared and brought her food. It is obvious she and Teague, who were on more than ordinary friendly terms, seeing that they contemplated marrying one another, were in a position to effect the crime. Have you anything to say about that?"
He glared at them, but neither made reply.
"Very well. From further investigations I am of opinion that your concern was as agents and accessories rather than principals. But I would remind you that accessories to crime, especially such a crime as murder, share the guilt and are liable to very severe penalties."
He paused. Old Nan's lips were pressed in a hard line and her eyes stared straight in front of her. Teague also was silent. Mr. Watson nodded his head in a non-committal way. The others were waiting for what was yet to come.
"I will not pursue that at the moment. We knew that the lipstick was the cause of death but we did not know who had poisoned it or what had happened to it after the lady had used it. We now have evidence on both points. We found the actual lipstick. I myself found it in the presence of a witness." He paused to give his words more effect. "It was in the pocket, or rather the lining, of the coat that Miss Emerald Michelmore was wearing on the night of the murder."
Every eye turned to Emerald. Pale and rigid, she sat stiffly on the settee, her hands tightly clenched. But she also said nothing.
"As you may know, she and her sister were the only persons who entered the room where the body lay, other than the hotel servants, before the doctor and the police arrived."
Victor Gore-Black sprang to his feet.
"I am about to marry Miss Emerald Michelmore," he said warmly, "and I strongly resent and deny the suggestion that she had anything whatsoever to do with this affair."
"She does not deny it," Grimsby retorted icily. "She admits it. Here is the lipstick." He put it on the table. "I can tell you her exact words, or if she likes she can tell you herself."
Emerald remained silent.
"Say he is lying," Victor urged her.
"She has already said that," Grimsby remarked caustically, "but she thought better of it."
Then Emerald spoke, a little hysterically perhaps, but she repeated her previous statement.
"I did pick up the lipstick. It was lying on the bedroom floor. I did it automatically lest it should get trodden on.
“There is a hole in my pocket and it slipped through. I forgot all about it. I might have remembered it sooner if I had known what they were looking for. I had nothing to do with Adelaide's death. Whether you believe me or not, that is the truth."
She looked with some defiance at the detective. Victor put his hand reassuringly on hers. Gaston Bidaut watched her with an angry scowl.
"That is her story," Grimsby commented to Mr. Watson. "In her previous statement she also said she would not have carried the thing about with her until I found it. But in fact she did not know she was doing so. The reasonable assumption is that she thought she had lost it. You will note how fortunate it was for the murderer that the means of the crime, the weapon so to speak, should disappear from the scene and we should be left to assume it was a case of suicide. We will leave that aspect of the case for the moment. Mr. Jasper Michelmore, do you recognise this?"
From its case he lifted out the palette that Sergeant Allenby had found in the studio, but he held it the reverse way up, so that the red smears were not visible. All eyes now were on Jasper, wondering what was to follow. He, however, appeared unperturbed.
"I cannot say I do," he drawled. "I have one rather like it."
"Do you recognise it now?" Grimsby demanded as he turned it over and showed the deadly stain.
"No better than before," Jasper replied.
"It has your fingerprints on it."
"Then it seems fair to assume it is mine."
"It is your palette," the detective said solemnly, "hidden in your cabinet in your studio. This paint on it is lipstick mixed with cyanide; the precise mixture that killed Adelaide Bidaut. We have absolute proof of that. What have you to say about that?"
"Am I to take this seriously?" Jasper asked, but less flippantly than before.
"Very seriously, and I warn you that what you say is being taken down and may be used as evidence."
"All I can say is that I know nothing about it. I was away."
"I suggest it was prepared before you went. You stayed away until you had the message that it had been effective."
Jasper made no reply. Innocent or guilty he realised the gravity of his position.
"Where was the key of your studio while you were away?" Grimsby proceeded ruthlessly.
Jasper hesitated for a moment. He glanced at Emerald. Then he said, "Naturally I had it with me."
"That may be a very important point," Roger Bennion remarked, speaking for the first time. "You are not on oath but I hope you will tell the truth. I put that question to you and you told me you left it with your sister."
"He did," Emerald said.
"And you returned it to him when he got back?" Grimsby asked quickly.
"Certainly," she replied.
"If she says so, it is no doubt true," Jasper shrugged. "I had forgotten."
"She did it!" Gaston cried suddenly. "I see it all! Adelaide told me, "
"What Adelaide told you is not evidence," Mr. Watson interrupted coldly. "She did not know what was going to happen."
"Mr. Watson is of course right," Grimsby said. "Now, Miss Emerald, you held the key during your brother's absence. How often did you enter the studio while he was away?"
"Never. I had no occasion to do so."
"Did you prepare the poison that caused Adelaide Bidaut's death?"
"I did not." Emerald spoke more firmly, despite Gaston's blunt accusation. She realised she did not stand alone, although she had refused to accept her brother's suggestion that he had retained the key.
"Did anyone hand you that lipstick?" Grimsby persisted.
"They did not. I had never seen it until I found it on the bedroom floor."
"You admit that you then removed it and so made the detection of the crime more difficult?"
"I admit I removed it. I was unaware there had been a crime."
"What more do you want?" Gore-Black demanded. "She is obviously entirely innocent."
"You, Jasper," Grimsby went on, disregarding the interruption, "you admit that the poison was prepared on your palette?"
"I admit nothing of the sort," Jasper replied. "I said I had a palette like that and if it came from my studio and bears my fingerprints, I agree it must be mine. But I know nothing of any poison."
The detective turned suddenly to the woman in the window. "Hannah Wood, who handed you that lipstick so that you might convey it to your mistress?"
"No one," she said.
"You packed her cases when she left home; did you put that lipstick in one of them?"
"No."
"Did you place it anywhere where she might find it?"