“Did you have any opportunity of observing Mr. Pullin’s manners or habits?” Hewitt asked.
“Indeed, no. I saw nothing of him. But I could hear him very often, and his language was not of the sort I could tolerate. He seemed to dominate the whole house with his boorish behaviour, and he was frequently intoxicated. I had already told Mrs. Beckle that if his stay were to continue mine should cease. I avoided him, indeed, altogether, and I know nothing of him.”
“Do you know how he came here? Did he know Mrs. Beckle or anybody else in the house before?”
“That also I can’t say. But Mrs. Beckle, I believe, knew all about him. In fact I have sometimes thought there was some mysterious connection between them, though what I cannot say. Certainly I cannot understand a landlady keeping so troublesome a lodger.”
“You have seen a little more of Mr. Foster, of course?”
“Well, yes. He has been here so much longer. He was more endurable than was Captain Pullin, certainly, though _he_ was not always sober. The two did not love one another, I believe.”
There the inspector pricked his ears. “They didn’t love one another, you say, ma’am. Why was that?”
“Oh, I don’t really know. I fancy Mr. Foster wanted to borrow money or something. He used to say Captain Pullin had plenty of money, and had once sunk a ship purposely. I don’t know whether or not this was serious, of course.”
Hewitt looked at her keenly. “Have you ever heard him called Captain Pullin of the _Egret_?” he asked.
“No, I never heard the name of any vessel.”
“There’s just one thing, Miss Walker,” the inspector said, “that I’m afraid I must insist on before you go. It’s only a matter of form, of course. But I must ask you to let me look round your room--I shan’t disturb it.”
Miss Walker tossed her head. “Very well then,” she said, turning toward the door with the Yale lock, and producing the key; “there it is.” And she flung the door open.
The inspector stepped within and took a perfunctory glance round. “That will do; thank you,” he said; “I am sorry to have kept you. I think you may go now, Miss Walker. You won’t be leaving here to-day altogether, I suppose?”
As she disappeared by the foot of the stairs the inspector remarked in a jocular undertone, “Needn’t bother about _her._ She isn’t strong enough to cut a hen’s throat.”
