The Clocks Read Free Page B

… Oh, yes, she came home.”
    â€œMiss Pebmarsh, you mean?”
    â€œYes. Only I didn’t think about her being Miss Pebmarsh then. She just came in with a shopping basket.” Her tone underlined the shopping basket as something incongruous and irrelevant.
    â€œAnd what did you say?”
    â€œI don’t think I said anything … I tried to, but I couldn’t. I felt all choked up here. ” She indicated her throat.
    The inspector nodded.
    â€œAnd then—and then—she said: ‘Who’s there?’ and she came round the back of the sofa and I thought—I thought she was going to—to tread on It. And I screamed … And once I began I couldn’t stop screaming, and somehow I got out of the room and through the front door—”
    â€œLike a bat out of hell,” the inspector remembered Colin’s description.
    Sheila Webb looked at him out of miserable frightened eyes and said rather unexpectedly:
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œNothing to be sorry about. You’ve told your story very well. There’s no need to think about it any more now. Oh, just one point, why were you in that room at all?”
    â€œWhy?” She looked puzzled.
    â€œYes. You’d arrived here, possibly a few minutes early, and you’d pushed the bell, I suppose. But if nobody answered, why did you come in?”
    â€œOh that. Because she told me to.”
    â€œWho told you to?”
    â€œMiss Pebmarsh did.”
    â€œBut I thought you hadn’t spoken to her at all.”
    â€œNo, I hadn’t. It was Miss Martindale she said it to—that Iwas to come in and wait in the sitting room on the right of the hall.”
    Hardcastle said: “Indeed” thoughtfully.
    Sheila Webb asked timidly:
    â€œIs—is that all?”
    â€œI think so. I’d like you to wait here about ten minutes longer, perhaps, in case something arises I might want to ask you about. After that, I’ll send you home in a police car. What about your family—you have a family?”
    â€œMy father and mother are dead. I live with an aunt.”
    â€œAnd her name is?”
    â€œMrs. Lawton.”
    The inspector rose and held out his hand.
    â€œThank you very much, Miss Webb,” he said. “Try and get a good night’s rest tonight. You’ll need it after what you’ve been through.”
    She smiled at him timidly as she went through the door into the dining room.
    â€œLook after Miss Webb, Colin,” the inspector said. “Now, Miss Pebmarsh, can I trouble you to come in here?”
    Hardcastle had half held out a hand to guide Miss Pebmarsh, but she walked resolutely past him, verified a chair against the wall with a touch of her fingertips, drew it out a foot and sat down.
    Hardcastle closed the door. Before he could speak, Millicent Pebmarsh said abruptly:
    â€œWho’s that young man?”
    â€œHis name is Colin Lamb.”
    â€œSo he informed me. But who is he? Why did he come here?”
    Hardcastle looked at her in faint surprise.
    â€œHe happened to be walking down the street when Miss Webb rushed out of this house screaming murder. After coming in and satisfying himself as to what had occurred he rang us up, and was asked to come back here and wait.”
    â€œYou spoke to him as Colin.”
    â€œYou are very observant, Miss Pebmarsh—(observant? hardly the word. And yet none other fitted)—Colin Lamb is a friend of mine, though it is some time since I have seen him.” He added: “He’s a marine biologist.”
    â€œOh! I see.”
    â€œNow, Miss Pebmarsh, I shall be glad if you can tell me anything about this rather surprising affair.”
    â€œWillingly. But there is very little to tell.”
    â€œYou have resided here for some time, I believe?”
    â€œSince 1950. I am—was—a schoolmistress by profession. When I was told nothing could be done about my failing