"My soul is humbled in me," apologised Simmons.

"Never mind about your soul!" said the Sergeant impatiently. "And don't take any notice of Glass! You listen to me! Can you describe this Budd's appearance?"

"Oh yes, Sergeant! A short, stout person in a suit which I should designate as on the loud side, and a bowler hat. I fancy he is of the Jewish persuasion."

"Short and stout!" said the Sergeant, disappointed. "Sounds to me like a tout. Did the deceased expect a visit from him?"

"I hardly think so. Mr. Budd stated that his business was urgent, and I was constrained to take his card to Mr. Fletcher. My impression was that Mr. Fletcher was considerably annoyed."

"Do you mean scared?"

"Oh no, Sergeant! Mr. Fletcher spoke of "damned impertinence", but after a moment he told me to show Mr. Budd in, which I did."

"And that was at 9 p.m., or thereabouts? Did you hear any sounds of altercation?"

The butler hesitated. "I wouldn't say altercation, Sergeant. The master's voice was upraised once or twice, but I didn't hear what he said, me being in the dining-room, across the hall, until I withdrew to my pantry."

"You wouldn't say that a quarrel took place between them?"

"No, Sergeant. Mr. Budd did not strike me as a quarrelsome person. In fact, the reverse. I got the impression he was afraid of the master."

"Afraid of him, eh? Was Mr. Fletcher a bad-tempered man?"

"Dear me, no, Sergeant! A very pleasant-spoken gentleman, usually. It was very seldom I saw him putout."

"But was he put-out tonight? By Mr. Budd's call?"

The butler hesitated. "Before that, I fancy, Sergeant. I believe Mr. Fletcher had a - a slight difference with Mr. Neville, just before dinner."

"Mr. Neville? That's the nephew? Does he live here?"