You'd better talk to her yourself.
Not that you'll get any sense out of her.
She's down the orchard.
I'll yell for her if you like."
Miss Hinchliffe raised her stentorian voice in a powerful bellow:
"Hi - you, Murgatroyd..."
"Coming..." floated back a thin cry.
"Hurry up - Polieece," bellowed Miss Hinchliffe.
Miss Murgatroyd arrived at a brisk trot very much out of breath.
Her skirt was down at the hem and her hair was escaping from an inadequate hair net. Her round, good-natured face beamed.
"Is it Scotland Yard?" she asked breathlessly.
"I'd no idea. Or I wouldn't have left the house."
"We haven't called in Scotland Yard yet, Miss Murgatroyd.
I'm Inspector Craddock from Milchester."
"Well, that's very nice, I'm sure," said Miss Murgatroyd vaguely.
"Have you found any clues?"
"Where were you at the time of the crime, that's what he wants to know, Murgatroyd?" said Miss Hinchliffe. She winked at Craddock.
"Oh, dear," gasped Miss Murgatroyd.
"Of course.
I ought to have been prepared.
Alibis, of course.
Now, let me see, I was just with everybody else."
"You weren't with me," said Miss Hinchliffe.
"Oh, dear, Hinch, wasn't I?
No, of course, I'd been admiring the chrysanthemums.
Very poor specimens, really.
And then it all happened - only I didn't really know it had happened - I mean I didn't know that anything like that had happened.
I didn't imagine for a moment that it was a real revolver - and all so awkward in the dark, and that dreadful screaming.
I got it all wrong, you know.
I thought she was being murdered - I mean the refugee girl.
I thought she was having her throat cut across the hall somewhere.
I didn't know it was him - I mean, I didn't even know there was a man.
It was really just a voice, you know, saying,
'Put them up, please.'" "'Stick 'em up!'" Miss Hinchliffe corrected.
"And no suggestion of 'please' about it."
"It's so terrible to think that until that girl started screaming I was actually enjoying myself.
Only being in the dark was very awkward and I got a knock on my corn.
Agony, it was.
Is there anything more you want to know, Inspector?"
"No," said Inspector Craddock, eyeing Miss Murgatroyd speculatively. "I don't really think there is."
Her friend gave a short bark of laughter.
"He's got you taped, Murgatroyd."
"I'm sure, Hinch," said Miss Murgatroyd, "that I'm only too willing to say anything I can."
"He doesn't want that," said Miss Hinchliffe.
She looked at the Inspector.
"If you're doing this geographically I suppose you'll go to the Vicarage next.
You might get something there.
Mrs. Harmon looks as vague as they make them - but I sometimes think she's got brains.
Anyway, she's got something."
As they watched the Inspector and Sergeant Fletcher stalk away, Amy Murgatroyd said breathlessly: