"I wonder where Mr. Wainwright's gone," said Mrs. Mayton.

It didn't matter to her in the least where he had gone. He lived on the second floor at the back of the house, and all that mattered about him was that he paid his three guineas a week regularly for board and lodging, baths costing extra. But life — particularly evening life — was terribly dull in her boarding-house, and sometimes one tried to find something interesting.

"Did he go?" asked Monty Smith.

It didn't matter to him either, but he was as polite as he was pale.

"I thought I heard the front door close," answered Mrs. Mayton.

"Perhaps he went out to post a letter," suggested Miss Wicks, without pausing in her knitting. She had knitted for seventy years, and looked as if she would knit for another seventy.

"Or perhaps it wasn't Mr. Wainwright at all," added Bella Randall. She was the lovely girl of the boarding-house.

"You mean that it might have been someone else?" inquired Mrs. Mayton.

"Yes," agreed Bella.

They all considered the idea earnestly. Mr. Calthrop, waking suddenly, joined in the thinking without any idea of what he was thinking about.

"Perhaps it was Mr. Penbury who went out," said Mrs. Mayton.

But it was not Mr. Penbury; for that rather unusual individual walked into the drawing-room a moment later.

His arrival interrupted the conversation, and silence returned. Penbury always had a chilling effect. He possessed a brain, and because no one understood it when he used it, it was resented. But Mrs. Mayton never allowed more than three minutes to go by without a word; and so, when the new silence had lasted three minutes, she turned to Penbury and asked, "Was that Mr. Wainright who went out a short time ago?"

Penbury looked at her oddly. "What makes you ask that?" he said.

"Well, I was just wondering."

"I see," answered Penbury slowly. The atmosphere seemed to tighten, but Miss Wicks went on knitting. "And are you still wondering?" Penbury added.

"We decided perhaps he'd gone out to post a letter," murmured Bella.

"No, Wainwright hasn't gone out to post a letter," replied Penbury. "He's dead."

The effect was immediate and violent. Bella gave a tiny shriek. Mrs. Mayton's eyes became two startled balls of glass. Monty Smith opened his mouth and kept it open. Mr. Calthrop in a second lost all desire to sleep. Miss Wicks looked definitely interested, though she did not stop knitting. That meant nothing, however. She had promised to knit at her funeral.

"Dead?" gasped Mr. Calthrop.

"Dead," repeated Penbury. "He is lying on the floor of his room. He is not a pleasant sight." Monty leapt up and then sat down again.

"You — you don't mean —?" he gulped.

"That is exactly what I mean," replied Penbury.

There had been countless silences in Mrs. Mayton's drawing-room, but never a silence like this one. Miss Wicks broke it.

"Shouldn't the police be sent for?" she suggested.

"The police have already been sent for," said Penbury. "I phoned the police station just before coming into the room."

"God bless my soul," said Mr. Calthrop.

"How long — that is — when do your expect —?" stammered Monty.

"The police? I should say in two or three minutes," replied Penbury. His voice suddenly lost its mocking tone and became practical.

"Shall we try to make use of these two or three minutes? We shall all be questioned, and perhaps we can be sure of the facts before they arrive?"

"But this is nothing to do with any of us, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Calthrop.

"The police will not necessarily believe that," answered Penbury. "That is why I suggest that we should consider where we all were at the time. I am not a doctor, but I estimate from my brief examination of the body that it has not been dead for more than an hour. It cannot, of course, be more than an hour and a half, since it is now ten past nine and at twenty to eight we saw him leave the dining-room for his bedroom —"

"How do you know he went to his bedroom?" interrupted Miss Wicks.

"Because I had a headache and followed him upstairs to go to my room to get some aspirin; and my room is opposite his. Now, if I am right, he was killed between ten minutes past eight and ten minutes past nine. Therefore anyone who can prove that he or she remained in this room all that time need not worry."

He looked round inquiringly.

"We've all been out of the room," Miss Wicks announced.

"That is unfortunate," murmured Penbury.

"But so have you," exclaimed Monty nervously.

"Yes — so I have," replied Penbury. "Then I will speak first. At twenty to eight I followed Wainwright up to the second floor. Before going into his room he made an odd remark which is worth repeating. 'There's somebody in this house who doesn't like me very much,' he said. 'Only one?' I answered. 'You're luckier than I am.' Then he went into his room, and that was the last time I saw him alive. I went to my room. I took two aspirins. I went into the bathroom to wash them down with a drink of water. My water-bottle needs filling again, Mrs. Mayton. Then, as my head was still bad, I thought a walk would be a good idea, and I went out. I kept out till approximately nine o'clock, and then I came back. The door that you heard closing, Mrs. Mayton, was not Wainwright going out. It was myself coming in."

"Wait a moment!" cried Bella. "How did you know Mrs. Mayton heard the front door close? You weren't here!"

Penbury regarded her with interest and respect. "Intelligent", he murmured.

"Don't take too long thinking of an answer!" glared Mr. Calthrop.

"I don't need any time at all to think of an answer," replied Penbury sharply. "I know because I listened outside the door. But may I finish my statement in my own way? Thank you! When I came back I went up to my room, and on the floor I found a handkerchief. It wasn't mine. It hadn't been there when I left. I wondered whether it was Wainwright's. I went into his room to ask if the handkerchief was his. I found him lying on the floor near his bed. Dressed, of course. On his back. Head towards the window, one arm stretched towards the fireplace. Stabbed through the heart. No weapon there, but it looks a small wound, but deep. The window was fastened. Whoever did it entered through the door. I left the room and locked the door. I came down and telephoned and on the way I stopped outside this door and heard what you all said."

"Why did you sit here for three minutes without telling us?" demanded Mrs. Mayton hotly.

"I was watching you," answered Penbury coolly.

"Well, I call that a poor explanation," exclaimed Mr. Calthrop. "Who can prove you were out all that time?"

"At half past eight I had a cup of coffee in Junkers Street. That's over a mile away. It's not proof, I admit, but they know me there, and it may help. Well, who's next?"

"I am," said Bella. "I left the room to blow my nose. I went to my room for a handkerchief. And here it is!" she concluded, producing it triumphantly.

"How long were you out of the room?" said Penbury.

"Five minutes, I should say."

"A long time to get a handkerchief! What about you, Mr. Calthrop? We all know you walk in your sleep. A week ago you walked into my room, didn't you? Have you lost a handkerchief?"

Mr. Calthrop glared. "What the devil do you mean?" he exclaimed.

"Has Mr. Calthrop slept during the past hour?" asked Penbury.

"What rubbish!" he cried. "Did I leave this room without knowing it and kill Wainwright for — for no reason at all?" He swallowed and calmed down. "I left the room, sir, about twenty minutes ago to fetch the evening paper, and here it is!"

Penbury shrugged his shoulders, "I should be the last to reject such a loud statement," he said, "but let me suggest that you tell the police with less emphasis. Mr. Smith?"

Monty Smith had followed the conversation anxiously, and he had his story ready. Speaking slowly and carefully he answered, "This is why I left the room. Mr. Wainwright lent me his key this afternoon, when I lost mine, and I went out to return it. But on the first floor I met Mrs. Mayton, who asked me to help her with the curtain of the landing window. It had come off some of its hooks. I did so and then returned to the drawing-room with her. You'll remember, all of you, that we returned together."

"That's right," nodded Mrs. Mayton. "And the reason I went out was to fix the curtain."

Penbury looked at Monty hard. "Where's the key?" he asked.

"What? Oh, of course! The curtain put it out of my mind. It's still in my pocket."

"And you didn't go up to his room?"

"No! Thank goodness!"

Penbury shrugged his shoulders again. He did not seem satisfied. But he turned now to Miss Wicks, and the old lady inquired, while her needles moved busily, "My turn?"

"If you'll be so good," answered Penbury.

"I understand. There's no need to apologize. Well, I left the drawing-room to fetch some knitting needles. The steel ones that I'm using now. My room, as you know, is on the second floor, and after I'd got the needles I was just about to come down when I heard Mr. Wainwright's cough —"

"What! You heard him cough?" interrupted Penbury. "What time was that?"

"Just before nine, I think it was," said Miss Wicks. "Oh, that irritating cough! How it gets on one's nerves. Morning, noon and night. Enough to send one mad." She paused, and the tense atmosphere grew tenser. "Your door was open, Mr. Penbury, and I went in to ask if we could do something about that cough. But you were out. You've just told us where. And suddenly, when I heard Mr. Wainwright coughing again across the passage — well, I felt that I couldn't bear it any more. I knocked at his door — it was my handkerchief that you found in your room, Mr. Penbury. I must have dropped it there."

She paused again, and Penbury murmured, "Go on."

She turned on him fiercely. Mr. Calthrop nearly jumped out of his chair. Monty felt sweat dripping down his neck. Bella twisted her fingers together to prevent herself from shrieking. Mrs. Mayton sat rigid.

"Will you stop interrupting?" shouted the old woman.

Penbury moistened his lips. For a few moments Miss Wicks knitted rapidly, the steel points of the needles making the only sound in the room. Then she continued in a queer, hard voice.

"Come in!" called Mr. Wainwright. "I'm coming in," I called back. And I went in.

And there he stood smiling at me. "You haven't come to complain of my cough again, have you?" he asked. "No," I answered. "I've come to cure it." And I plunged a steel knitting-needle into his heart — like this!"

She stretched out a bony hand, and with amazing strength stabbed a cushion.

The next instant there came a knocking on the front door. "The police!" gasped Mr. Calthrop. But no one moved. They listened tensely. Then they heard someone open the front door. They heard footsteps entering.

A moment later they heard Mr. Wainwright's dry cough.

"Yes! And I heard it when he went out ten minutes ago," smiled Miss Wicks. "But thank you very much indeed, Mr. Penbury. It was all very interesting, and before you came in I was as bored as the others."