Death of a Beauty Queen by E.R. Punshon

a mean trick on one of the other girls.’
    â€˜What was that?’ Mitchell asked.
    â€˜It’s a Miss Ellis – Lilian Ellis,’ Beattie explained uncomfortably. ‘She’s very pretty too – not like Carrie Mears, but... well, everyone thought she had the best chance after Carrie Mears, and some thought she might turn out winner. And it got about Carrie had told her the rules were she would be disqualified if she stopped on the stage too long, and Miss Ellis believed her, and ran off again before the judging committee had time to give her any marks.’
    â€˜And you were going to ask Miss Mears about it?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Mitchell hesitated, and drummed lightly on the table with his finger-tips, as was his custom when he was worried or perplexed. He said quietly:
    â€˜Well, let’s leave that for the moment. Will you tell us exactly what happened after you knocked? Oh, by the way, there’s a hat here.’ He showed the big, broad-brimmed felt hat he had brought with him from the manager’s office. ‘Isn’t yours, is it?’
    â€˜No,’ Beattie answered, shaking his head.
    â€˜Don’t know whose, I suppose?’
    â€˜It looks like one Mr Paul Irwin wears sometimes,’ Beattie answered. ‘I don’t know if it is.’
    â€˜Have to ask,’ observed Mitchell carelessly, putting it down. ‘After you knocked, what happened?’
    â€˜There wasn’t any answer,’ Beattie continued, ‘so I opened the door and looked in, just to make sure there was on one there. All the lights were out except a reading-lamp on the desk. I thought the room was empty, and I was just going away again, only I thought it funny the reading- lamp on the desk was lighted, and then I got the feeling... I can’t describe it exactly... I felt uneasy somehow, as if something was wrong... I didn’t know what... and I saw the room was empty, and, all the same, I thought it wasn’t... I called her name and there wasn’t any answer, and then I thought I heard a faint sort of breathing sound, as if someone was asleep, only not very comfortable – a sort of half breathing, half choking. The switch is near the door, and I turned on the electricity and went further into the room. I could see her then, lying on the floor behind Sargent’s big desk. It had hidden her before.’
    â€˜I noticed that,’ Mitchell agreed. ‘I saw behind the desk would be hidden from anyone standing in the doorway. Go on, please.’
    â€˜I thought at first she had fainted or something. I went across to her. I was hurrying, and my foot slipped in something.’ He paused and shuddered, remembering what that something was. He continued. ‘I went down on my knees. I tried to lift her. She was looking at me, and I think she knew me, but I’m not sure. She didn’t say anything. I saw a knife just at the bottom of her throat. I caught hold of it and pulled it out. That made the wound bleed worse than ever for a moment, and then it stopped suddenly. I tried to stop it with my handkerchief, but it stopped itself. I didn’t know what to do. I think I hardly believed it. There was blood all over me. I got up and ran to the door and there was a man passing, and I shouted out to him that Miss Mears had been murdered. I think he thought I was mad. Someone else came, and I told him, and he looked inside the room and then he ran off, and I think I went faint or something – I only remember leaning against the wall and trying to tell a policeman, who had turned up somehow, all about it, and his keeping on telling me not to say anything.’
    He paused and then, after an interval, he added abruptly:
    â€˜I had got myself all over blood.’
    Mitchell took no notice of this remark. He was again drumming with his finger-tips on the table before him. He said:
    â€˜Was Miss Mears alone when you were taking the photographs you spoke