"I saw a man come up the path," she said in a low voice. "That's why I hid behind the bush."
He folded the newspaper very exactly. "You saw a man come up the path? Well? Who was it?"
"I don't know."
"Do you mean you didn't recognise him?"
"Yes - that is, I couldn't see him distinctly. I - I only know that he went into the study, through the window."
"Have you told the police this?"
"Yes, I - I told them."
"Did the Superintendent ask you if you would be able to recognise this mysterious man if you saw him again?"
"No. I told him that I couldn't see at all clearly, and only had a vague impression of an ordinary sort of man in a light hat."
There was a slight pause. "In a light hat? Oh! And would you recognise him again?"
"No, I tell you! I haven't the least idea who it was!"
"I hope the Superintendent believed you," he remarked.
"Why?" demanded Sally, who had been watching him closely.
He glanced indifferently down at her. "Why? Because I have no desire to see my wife in the witness-box, of course."
"Oh, my God, I shan't have to give evidence, shall I?" gasped Helen. "I couldn't. I'd rather die! Oh, what a ghastly mess it all is!"
"It is indeed," he said.
Sally, who had been rhythmically swinging her monocle on the end of its cord, suddenly screwed it into her eye, and asked: "Does the Superintendent suspect you of having had anything to do with it, John?"
"I've no idea what he suspects. Helen's connection with the crime has evidently given him food for thought. He probably suffers from old-fashioned ideas about jealous husbands."
She cocked her head on one side. "I should have thought you were capable of being a trifle primitive. What's more, your somewhat unexpected appearance on the scene must look a bit fishy to him."
"Why should it? If I'd murdered Fletcher I should hardly have come down here today."
She considered this dispassionately. "Dunno. It's a point, of course, but it would have looked bad if you'd lain low, and he'd found out that you weren't in Berlin at all."
"Give me credit for a little common sense, Sally. When I commit a murder I can assure you I shall take good care to cover my tracks." He glanced at his wrist-watch. "Ask them to put lunch forward, will you, Helen? I've got to go back to town."
"I'll go and tell Evans," offered Sally, and went out, firmly shutting the door behind her.
Helen mechanically straightened an ornament on the mantelpiece. "Are you - are you coming back?" she asked.
"Certainly I'm coming back," he replied.
She hesitated, then said in a low voice: "You're very angry about this…'
"We won't discuss that. The mischief is done, and I imagine my possible anger is unlikely to make you regret it more than you are already doing."
She lifted her hand to her cheek. "You don't believe me, but I wasn't having an affair with Ernie."
"Oh yes, I believe you!" he returned.
Her hand fell. "You do believe me? You didn't think I was in love with him - ever? I thought -'
"You thought because I personally disliked the man, and your intimacy with him, that I was jealous," he said sardonically. "You were wrong. I always knew he was not the type you fall for, my dear."
She winced. "It is not fair to say I fall for anyone. It sounds - rather Victorian, but I've been perfectly faithful to you."
"I am aware of that."
"You have made it your business to be sure of that!"
"It was my business," he replied hardly.
"Why did you behave as you did over my friendship with Ernie, then? You knew you could at least trust me not to indulge in a vulgar intrigue!"
"It wasn't- you, but Fletcher whom I mistrusted," he said. "I warned you that I wouldn't stand for that particular friendship, didn't I?"
"What right had you to expect me to drop him or any other of my friends? You allowed me to go my own road, and you went yours -'
"This is a singularly unprofitable discussion," he interrupted. "You chose to go your own road, but if I remember rightly I made it clear to you two years ago that I would not tolerate either your debts or your indiscretions. Six months ago I requested you to keep Ernest Fletcher at arm's length. You have been almost continuously in his company ever since."
"I liked him. I didn't love him!"
"You can hardly have expected the world to know that."
"But you knew it!"
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "I knew that Fletcher had a peculiar fascination for women."
"Yes! That's true, and I did feel that fascination. But love - ! Oh, no, no, no!" She turned away in some agitation, and walked rather blindly towards the window. With her back to the room, she said after a moment: "Why did you come down here today? You suspected I was - mixed up in this, didn't you?"
"Yes," he said. "I did."
"I wonder you came, then," she said bitterly.
He did not answer at once, but presently he said in a gentler voice: "That's silly, Helen. Whatever our differences we are man and wife, and if there's trouble brewing we're both in it. I hope, however, that it'll blow over. Try not to worry about it - and don't say more than you need if Superintendent Hannasyde questions you any further."
"No. I'll be very careful," she replied.
Miss Drew reappeared at that moment, with the tidings that luncheon would be ready in five minutes.
"Thanks. I'll go and wash," North said, and went out.
Sally eyed her sister's back speculatively. "Tell him the truth?"
"No."
"Fool."
"I couldn't. It's no use arguing: you just don't understand."
"He'd prefer the true story to the obvious alternative."
"You're wrong. He knows there was nothing between Ernie and me."
"Does he?" said Sally.
Helen wheeled round. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure. But somehow he didn't give me that impression. If he knew there was nothing between you and Ernie, I don't quite see the reason for the very definite animus against Ernie."
"He never cared much for him. But as for animus, that's absurd!"
"Oh no, it isn't, and you know it isn't, my girl! John's wasting no tears over Ernie's death. Moreover, it wouldn't altogether surprise me to learn that he knows more than you think he does."
"Once a novelist always a novelist!" said Helen, with a little laugh.
"Too true! And that being so, I think I'll wander round to take a look at the scene of the crime after lunch."
"You can't possibly do that!"
"What's to stop me?"
"It isn't decent!"
"Decent be blowed! I shall go and rout that poor worm Neville out. He's another person who conceivably knows more than he chooses to admit. I hope the police aren't underrating him; immense potentialities in Neville."
"Potentialities for what?"
"You have me there, sister," replied Sally. "I'm damned if I know, but I'm going to have a shot at finding out."
Luncheon was announced a moment later, and the subject of Ernest Fletcher's death was abandoned. Throughout the meal, Helen said little, and ate less. Miss Drew maintained a cheerful flow of small talk, and North, having eaten a hurried meal, left the table early, informing his wife that he would be back to dinner.
After the ladies had finished their coffee, Sally gave it as her considered opinion that Helen would be the better for a rest. Somewhat to her surprise Helen fell in with this suggestion, and allowed herself to be escorted upstairs. When Sally lowered the window-blinds she said: "You aren't really going round to Greystones, are you?"
"Yes, I am. Taking a message of condolence from you to poor old Miss Fletcher. I shall say you are writing to her, of course."
A faint voice from amongst the banked-up pillows said: "Oh! I ought to have done that!"