Murder in the Telephone Exchange by June Wright

think of any reason why she left the room?” he asked. “Surely it is not usual for a monitor to absent herself during the busy time?”
    â€œYes,” I said promptly. “I told you that she was a busybody. Someone had locked the restroom door, which is quite against the rules. I’ll bet you anything you like to name that Compton had her nose on the trail, trying to find out who it was. As a matter of fact, I was the chief suspect in that little affair; being the late telephonist, everyone jumped rashly to the conclusion that I locked it.”
    â€œWhy rashly, Miss Byrnes?”
    â€œBecause I didn’t go near the blasted room after 6.15 p.m. I kept my telephone outfit with me while I had tea in the lunchroom, so that there would be no need for me to return to the cloakroom. After tea I went up on to the roof for a cigarette. Oh!” I ejaculated, pausing.
    â€œGo on, please,” said Sergeant Matheson quickly. “What time would it be?”
    â€œAbout a quarter to seven. What I was going to say was that I had an alibi concerning that door, but not now. She’s dead,” I finished blankly.
    Sergeant Matheson looked interested.
    â€œYou met the deceased on the roof?”
    â€œDon’t use that word,” I said in an irritated voice. After a gruelling night’s work, to be kept from your well-earned rest by a murder inquirywas a little trying on the nervous system. Heaven knew what I would feel like in the morning!
    â€œI will tell you in detail,” I said resignedly. “I was smoking a cigarette and enjoying the hot night air, when I heard someone in a corner playing games with me.”
    Sergeant Matheson looked at me sternly.
    â€œIt’s quite true,” I protested. “I’m not trying to be funny. Compton was playing ‘peepo’s’ with someone, and I was the only one on the roof. At least I thought that I was. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. Compton was sitting at one side of the lift cabin. You’d better go and inspect that later, by the way. When I went round it to see what was up, she was reading a piece of paper. There’s no use asking me what it was,” I interrupted, observing him take a breath. “It was nearly dark. You’ll probably find it in her handbag. She put it there when she saw me. Then we talked for a bit.”
    â€œWhat did you talk about, please, Miss Byrnes?” asked the Sergeant, writing furiously.
    â€œThis and that,” I answered airily.
    â€œWas the conversation friendly?”
    â€œMost. She barely said a thing, while I pursued an amiable discourse on the view. After a while, we started to go back to the stairs. Here is something that may be of interest to you. Just as we were at the door, Compton said that she saw someone go into the lift cabin.”
    I paused for effect, but the Sergeant only asked in an expressionless voice: “Did you?”
    â€œNo,” I said, feeling unreasonably annoyed. “I thought that she was imagining things. But there must have been someone, because a note was thrown down into the lift at us.”
    â€œThe lift?” he asked, puzzled.
    â€œWe took the lift down to the trunkroom,” I continued impatiently, “only we didn’t arrive. It got stuck or something. Anyway, some fool of a person hurled this letter at me. I gave it to Compton.”
    â€œWhy did you do that. Miss Byrnes?”
    â€œBecause,” I said, raising my eyes to heaven, “it had her name on it.”
    â€œDid you see what it contained?”
    â€œNo, but I wish I had. The note will probably be in her handbag, too. I caught the words ‘spying’ and ‘Compton’ on it before I handed it to her.”
    Sergeant Matheson looked at me thoughtfully.
    â€œWhy did you say that you wish you’d read the letter?”
    â€œBecause,” I replied, speaking very slowly, “it had the effect of changing her