‘Oh yes, of course. But Horbury was my father-in-law’s personal attendant. He did not come under my jurisdiction.’
‘I see.’
Colonel Johnson said:
‘We come now to the events of tonight. I’m afraid this will be painful for you, Mr Lee, but I would like your account of what happened.’
Alfred said in a low voice: ‘Of course.’
Colonel Johnson said, prompting him:
‘When, for instance, did you last see your father?’
A slight spasm of pain crossed Alfred’s face as he replied in a low voice:
‘It was after tea. I was with him for a short time. Finally I said goodnight to him and left him at—let me see—about a quarter to six.’
Poirot observed: ‘You said goodnight to him? You did not then expect to see him again that evening?’
‘No. My father’s supper, a light meal, was always brought to him at seven. After that he sometimes went to bed early or sometimes sat up in his chair, but he did not expect to see any members of the family again unless he specially sent for them.’
‘Did he often send for them?’
‘Sometimes. If he felt like it.’
‘But it was not the ordinary procedure?’
‘No.’
‘Go on, please, Mr Lee.’
Alfred continued:
‘We had our dinner at eight o’clock. Dinner was over and my wife and the other ladies had gone into the drawing-room.’ His voice faltered. His eyes began to stare again. ‘We were sitting there—at the table…Suddenly there was the most astounding noise overheard. Chairs overturning, furniture crashing, breaking glass and china, and then—Oh, God’—he shuddered—‘I can hear it still—my father screamed—a horrible, long-drawn scream—the scream of a man in mortal agony…’
He raised shaking hands to cover his face. Lydia stretched out her hand and touched his sleeve. Colonel Johnson said gently: ‘And then?’
Alfred said in a broken voice:
‘I think—just for a moment we were stunned. Then we sprang up and went out of the door and up the stairs to my father’s room. The door was locked. We couldn’t get in. It had to be broken open. Then, when we did get in, we saw—’
His voice died away.
Johnson said quickly:
‘There’s no need to go into that part of it, Mr Lee. To go back a little, to the time you were in the dining-room. Who was there with you when you heard the cry?’
‘Who was there? Why, we were all—No, let me see. My brother was there—my brother Harry.’
‘Nobody else?’
‘No one else.’
‘Where were the other gentlemen?’
Alfred sighed and frowned in an effort of remembrance.
‘Let me see—it seems so long ago—yes, like years—what did happen? Oh, of course, George had gone to telephone. Then we began to talk of family matters, and Stephen Farr said something about seeing we wanted to discuss thi