knock on the door. At Quixwood’s answer, Knox came in, closing it behind him.
“Excuse me, my lord,” he said to Narraway, then turned to Quixwood. “The surgeon’s left, sir, and taken Mrs. Quixwood’s body with him. Would you mind if I ask you one or two questions, just to get things straight? Then … I don’t know if you wish to stay here, or perhaps you’d rather find somewhere else for the night? Do you have any friends you’d like to be with?”
“What? Oh … I’ll … just stay here, I think.” Quixwood looked bemused, as if he had not even considered what he was going to do.
“Wouldn’t you rather go to your club?” Narraway suggested. “It would be more comfortable for you.”
Quixwood stared at him. “Yes, yes, I suppose so. In a little while.” He turned to Knox. “What happened to her? Surely you must know now?” His face was white, his eyes hollow.
Knox sat down in the chair opposite Quixwood and Narraway. He leaned forward a little.
Narraway could not help wondering how often the inspector had done this, and if anything ever prepared him for it, or made it any easier. He thought probably not.
“I’d rather not have to tell you this, sir,” Knox began. “But you’re going to know it one way or another; I’m sorry, Mrs. Quixwood was raped, and then killed. We’re not quite sure how she died; the surgeon will tell us that when he’s had time to make an examination in his offices.”
Quixwood stared at him, eyes wide, his hands shaking. “Did … did you say ‘raped’?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” Knox said unhappily.
“Did she suffer?” Quixwood’s voice was hardly audible.
“Probably not for very long,” Knox said. His tone was gentle, but he would not lie.
Quixwood rubbed his hand over his face, pushing his hair back, hard. His skin was ashen. There was no blood in it, and the darkness of his hair and brows looked almost blue. “How did it happen, Inspector? How did anyone get in here to do that? Where were the servants, for God’s sake?”
“We’re looking into that, sir,” Knox answered.
“Who found her?” Quixwood persisted.
Knox was patient, knowing the answers were needed, no matter what they were.
“The butler, Mr. Luckett. It seems he frequently goes for a short walk along the street and over the square before retiring. He found her when he checked the front door last thing before going to bed himself, sir.”
“Oh …” Quixwood looked at the floor. “Poor Catherine,” he murmured.
“I presume he locked the front door, then left for his walk through the side door and up the area steps?” Narraway asked Knox.
“Yes, sir. And returned the same way, bolting the door after him for the night.”
“And saw no one?” Narraway asked.
“No, sir, so he says.”
“It’ll be the truth,” Quixwood interjected. “Been with us for years. He’s a good man.” His eyes widened. “For God’s sake, you can’t think he had anything to do with this?”
“No, sir,” Knox said calmly. “It’s just practice to check everything we can, from every angle.”
“Does Luckett know what time he returned to the house?” Narraway asked Knox.
“Yes, sir, just after half-past ten. He sent the footman for the police immediately.”
“No telephone?” Narraway looked surprised.
“He was probably too flustered to think of it,” Quixwood cut in. “Wouldn’t know the police station number anyway, or think to ask the exchange for it.”
“I understand,” Knox agreed. “Fall back on habit when we’re shaken up badly. Find the first policeman on the beat. Turned out to be a good idea, as it happens. He ran into Constable Tibenham a couple of hundred yards away, other side of Eaton Square. He came here at once and used the telephone to call me. I got here just after quarter-past eleven. Sent for you at the Spanish Embassy. You got back here, I made it half-past midnight. It’s now about twenty minutes past one.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Quixwood, but I need to speak to at least some of the servants before I let them go to bed. Got to get it when it’s fresh in their minds. Could forget something if I wait until morning.”
Quixwood looked down at the carpet again. “I understand. Do you … do you need me?”
“Not to stay for the interviews, sir. Not necessary you should know anything as you’d rather not. Just a few things I need to ask you.”
Quixwood seemed confused. “What?”
“This was a party at the Spanish Embassy you were attending, sir?” Knox asked.