“Of course. Of course. And what time was all this? To help us in tracing the telephone call, you know.”
“About half-past six.”
“You can’t give it us more exactly than that?”
“Well, you see, the little clock on my mantelpiece had just chimed the half-hour, and I said, ‘Surely that clock is fast.’ (It does gain, that clock.) And I compared it with the watch I was wearing and that only said ten minutes past, but then I put it to my ear and found it had stopped. So I thought: ‘Well, if that clock is fast, I shall hear the church tower in a moment or two.’ And then, of course, the telephone bell rang, and I forgot all about it.”
She paused breathless.
“Well, that’s near enough,” said Colonel Melchett. “We’ll have it looked into for you, Mrs. Price Ridley.”
“Just think of it as a silly joke, and don’t worry, Mrs. Price Ridley,” I said.
She looked at me coldly. Evidently the incident of the pound note still rankled.
“Very strange things have been happening in this village lately,” she said, addressing herself to Melchett. “Very strange things indeed. Colonel Protheroe was going to look into them, and what happened to him, poor man? Perhaps I shall be the next?”
And on that she took her departure, shaking her head with a kind of ominous melancholy. Melchett muttered under his breath: “No such luck.” Then his face grew grave, and he looked inquiringly at Inspector Slack.
That worthy nodded his head slowly.