"Supposing you give us a chance.
You think Mrs. Haymes didn't lock that door?"
"I thinking she was very careful not to lock it."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Craddock.
"That young man, he does not work alone.
No, he knows where to come, he knows that when he comes a door will be left open for him - oh, very conveniently open!"
"What are you trying to say?"
"What is the use of what I say?
You will not listen.
You say I am a poor refugee girl who tells lies.
You say that a fair-haired English lady, oh, no, she does not tell lies - she is so British - so honest.
So you believe her and not me.
But I could tell you.
Oh, yes, I could tell you!"
She banged down a saucepan on the stove.
Craddock was in two minds whether to take notice of what might be only a stream of spite.
"We note everything we are told," he said.
"I shall not tell you anything at all.
Why should I?
You are all alike.
You persecute and despise poor refugees.
If I say to you that when, a week before, that young man come to ask Miss Blacklog for money and she sends him away, as - you say, with a flea in the ear - if I tell you that after that I hear him talking with Mrs. Haymes - yes, out there in the summerhouse - all you say is that I make it up!"
And so you probably are making it up, thought Craddock. But he said aloud:
"You couldn't hear what was said out in the summerhouse."
"There you are wrong," screamed Mitzi triumphantly.
"I go out to get nettles - it makes very nice vegetables, nettles.
They do not think so, but I cook it and not tell them.
And I hear them talking in there.
He say to her
'But where can I hide?'
And she say
'I will show you' - and then she say,
'At a quarter-past six,' and I think,
'Ach so! That is how you behave, my fine lady!
After you come back from work, you go out to meet a man.
You bring him into the house.'
Miss Blacklog, I think, she will not like that.
She will turn you out.
I will watch, I think, and listen and then I will tell Miss Blacklog.
But I understand now I was wrong.
It was not love she planned with him, it was to rob and to murder.
But you will say I make all this up.
Wicked Mitzi, you will say. I will take her to prison."
Craddock wondered.
She might be making it up.
But possibly she might not.
He asked cautiously:
"You are sure it was this Rudi Scherz she was talking to?"
"Of course I am sure.
He just leave and I see him go from the drive across to the summerhouse.