Hobby of Murder by E.X. Ferrars

however, we have work to do. We’ll begin, I think, with my asking you what brought you to Lower Milfrey at just this time?’
    ‘I came because I’d been invited to come by my old friends, the Davidges. I’d known them for years when they lived in London. Ian Davidge was my accountant long ago, while his first wife was still alive, and mine too. I think itwas partly because the two women met and became very good friends that Davidge and I drifted into friendship. My visit had no special purpose except to spend a pleasant week with him and Mollie Davidge. The time we chose for it had no special significance.’
    Roland nodded, and the sergeant who was sitting in a corner of the room jotted something down in his notebook.
    ‘Is this your first visit here, then?’ Roland asked.
    ‘Yes,’ Andrew answered.
    ‘Had you ever met any of the other people here before this evening?’
    ‘Before this visit? No. But I met several of them a few evenings ago at a small party the Davidges gave. And I spent most of the morning with Miss Clancy, being photographed.’
    ‘Ah, you’ve had that experience. Do you know, she asked me this evening if I’d allow her to photograph me. She said I had a splendid head. However, we settled nothing, and I have a feeling she may not be as anxious to pursue the matter now—though you never know. What’s happened this evening, and the fact that I was sitting next to the victim, might add a special sense of excitement to the experience. You never know where you are with these enthusiasts. But do I understand that you know very little about the relationships among the people you met?’
    ‘Very little indeed.’
    ‘Do you know anything, for instance, about Luke Singleton’s relationship with a former Mrs Audley?’
    ‘Only what I’ve heard by way of gossip,’ Andrew said. ‘I’ve been told that she left her husband for Singleton, that there was a divorce, and that after it he deserted her. But I never met the lady, and I met Audley for the first time at the Davidges’ party the other evening. I’ve been into his home once since then for a drink, and seen his very interestingcollection of butterflies, and that’s really all I know about him.’
    ‘Butterflies? He collects butterflies, does he?’ The Inspector seemed unexpectedly interested.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Andrew replied. ‘I think he told me the collection was made by his father. It’s a hobby that isn’t too well regarded these days, when there’s a feeling that we ought to protect the lovely things instead of catching and killing them. But they made a very fine show on his wall.’
    Roland gave a shake of his head. ‘A pity.’ But it was not pity for the butterflies that made him say it. ‘Here’s someone with a really sound motive for wanting Singleton dead, and he was at the far end of the table. Unless he managed to bribe one of those worthy women who were waiting on us to drop some cyanide in Singleton’s coffee, or perhaps put it in his cup before it was actually put down before him and filled, I can’t think of any possible way that he could have administered the poison. Now can you tell me if you yourself observed anything that could be useful to us that happened after Singleton had been served? I realize, of course, that I myself must be one of the chief suspects, sitting next to him as I was, and if you wish to question me, please do so. But I know you’re an observant man, and though you were sitting some way away from Singleton, it seems to me just possible you may have noticed if anything odd happened near him.’
    ‘The only slightly odd thing I saw is something I believe you’ve been told about already,’ Andrew said. ‘Just before Singleton gave that awful cry, I saw Brian Singleton, who was sitting opposite him, reach out and pluck a flower out of that elaborate affair on the table and turn to Mrs Davidge and persuade her to wear it. But I don’t see how that can have anything to do with