Death of a Beauty Queen by E.R. Punshon

room, and he was rather upset about it.’
    â€˜Ah, yes.’ Mitchell’s voice was flat; it showed no sign that he found this statement of any special interest. ‘Why was that?’
    â€˜He didn’t approve of her – didn’t want there to be anything between them,’ Sargent explained. ‘He felt quite strongly about it – thought she wasn’t good enough for his precious boy; thought she was too frivolous and worldly and would ruin him, body and soul together. He is an awful old fanatic, you know. Sticks at nothing to get his own way, because he’s so sure he’s right and doing the work of the Lord, and everyone else is in outer darkness.’
    Sargent spoke with some bitterness, for in the controversy about the Sunday opening of the cinemas in the Brush Hill district he had, from his point of view, considered some of the tactics and statements of the party led by old Mr Irwin distinctly unfair and even dishonest. Indeed there was possibly some foundation for his view that Mr Irwin was always so certain of the profound righteousness of his aims that he was apt to consider equally righteous all and every means for attaining them.
    â€˜About what time was this?’ Mitchell asked.
    Sargent considered. He wasn’t very sure. But Carrie had left the stage about ten, and Beattie had discovered her soon after the half hour. On the whole Sargent considered it must have been about a quarter past ten, though he couldn’t be certain to a minute or two.
    â€˜Where were you and Mr Irwin at the time?’ Mitchell asked.
    â€˜In the passage – just where it leads down to my office,’ Sargent answered, though a little uneasily, as if he did not much like this close questioning. ‘We saw Leslie Irwin in the doorway, and when he saw us he cleared off quick. I expect he hoped his father hadn’t seen him, and knew there would be a row if he had. Mr Irwin followed him – at least, that’s what he said. I don’t know how his hat got in the room, unless he went in. I’m sure he had it when he left me.’
    â€˜What did you do?’
    â€˜Nothing. I was only having a look round. I was looking for Martin – one of the staff – to speak to him, but I couldn’t see him at first. After a time I found him. I was just beginning to speak to him when we heard a commotion, and someone told us there had been an accident and Carrie Mears had hurt herself.’
    â€˜You didn’t see either of the Irwins again?’
    â€˜No. I thought most likely Leslie had gone home and the old man had followed him, I told him there was nothing to worry about, Carrie didn’t want to have anything to do with Leslie. But I don’t think he believed it. He thought everyone was as cracked about his boy as he was himself.’
    â€™Had you any reason for saying Miss Mears didn’t want anything to do with Leslie Irwin?’
    â€˜Well, she told me so herself.’
    â€˜I see. By the way, that reminds me. Isn’t it a little unusual for one of the competitors to be assigned your private office for a dressing-room?’
    â€˜Well, she had to go somewhere; everywhere else was full,’ Sargent explained, but, though he answered readily and easily, Mitchell was aware of an impression that the question had been expected and prepared for. ‘You must remember what it’s been like, fixing everything up,’ Sargent went on. ‘I can tell you it’s no joke finding places for all that tribe of girls and their mothers and their fathers and their uncles and their aunts – pandemonium, that’s what it’s been all night, a regular pandemonium.’
    â€˜But why your private office for Miss Mears?’ Mitchell insisted.
    â€˜Well, it’s this way,’ Sargent answered. ‘Pandemonium, it was all right, all evening; and then, to make it worse, we found Miss Mears’s name had been left out of the