Meanwhile Giles had introduced the Superintendent to Roger, and Hannasyde, in his good-humoured way, was explaining the ostensible reason for his visit. “As I expect you have been told, Mr Vereker, your brother, Mr Arnold Vereker, was stabbed at Ashleigh Green last Saturday,” he began, “so I'm sure you will -”
“Yes, I've been told that,” replied Roger, “but it has nothing to do with me. Naturally I was shocked to hear it. In fact, I didn't at first believe it.”
“It must have been a terrible shock,” agreed Hannasyde sympathetically.
“Well, it was. If they'd said he'd been shot, or been found with his head stuck in a gas-oven, it would have been another matter, because there's nothing surprising about that in these days. But a knife in the back is a very unusual thing in England. Took me back to Colombia in a flash.”
“Really,” said-Hannasyde. “Have you just come back from Colombia?”
“Oh no,” said Roger vaguely. “But I was there for a spell once. Didn't care for it, but you'd be surprised at the amount of quiet knifing that goes on. At least, it did in my day, but of course it may have changed by now.”
“I've always understood that those parts were somewhat uncivilised,” said Hannasyde. “Though they say South America is the country of the future.”
“They'll say anything,” replied Roger dampingly.
Hannasyde persevered. “Which part have you come from?” he inquired.
“BA,” said Roger. “But it's no use making a lot of inquiries about me there, because I've been living under another name. More convenient,” he added, in explanation.
“I see,” said Hannasyde. “And so you're just back. When did you land?”
“Yesterday,” said Roger, eyeing him suspiciously.
Hannasyde smiled. “That sounds to me like a remarkably good alibi,” he said lightly. “What was your ship?”
“Well, I've forgotten,” said Roger, “if I ever knew, which I rather doubt. To tell you the truth, I don't take much interest in ships. There are some people who no sooner get on board than they start making friends with the Chief Engineer, so that they can go down and have a look at the engine-room, which, as a matter of fact, is a nasty, smelly place. I'm not like that at all.”
Giles, who had been inquiring of Antonia half laughingly, half-anxiously, whether she was reconciled to Mesurier, turned his head, and said: “You must remember the name of the ship, surely?”
“There's no must about it,” replied Roger. “I can forget much more important things than that. Though I don't say it won't come back to me. Very often things do, and, what's more, things that happened years and years ago.”
“That'll be useful,” remarked Kenneth, lighting a cigarette. “What a fool you were to tell us what your assumed name was! You could have forgotten that, too.”
“Oh no, I couldn't,” Roger contradicted with sudden bitterness. “If you'd ever been called Fisher for years on end, you wouldn't forget it either.”
“I've just had a horrible thought,” said Antonia suddenly. “Are you married?”
“It doesn't matter if he is,” snapped Kenneth. “The mere fact of his being alive has ditched the whole thing.”
“Not absolutely,” Antonia answered. “After all, he's bound to die ages before you, because he's nearly forty now. Only if he's got hordes of children it all becomes a complete washout.”
“You needn't worry about that,” said Roger, “because I'm not married. I've done a lot of silly things in my time, but I never let anyone marry me.”
“Wonderful!” mocked Kenneth. “One can so readily picture the eager queue of maidens -”
“Now, don't try to be witty,” besought Roger. “It's a very unrestful habit. All I want is a quiet life, but how I'm going to get it with you being clever and policemen dancing in and out like -”
“And all I wanted,” Kenneth struck in savagely, “was for you to remain decently interred!”
“Antipathy, Mr Vereker? Or are you making the discovery that the acquisition of a large fortune is not a matter of such indifference as you would have had us believe?”
There was a note of irony in the Superintendent's level voice, and at the sound of it Kenneth turned, not put out of countenance, but alert, and with his sullen ill-humour gone in a flash. His eyes held a challenge, his elf-smile reappeared. “A hit, a very palpable hit!” And yet, my friend-the-Superintendent, you would suspect me more if I didn't seem to care whether I inherited Arnold's fortune or not.”
“Perhaps,” Hannasyde acknowledged. “But you should consider whether perhaps I may not suspect you of assuming a greater degree of annoyance than you really feel, on purpose to throw dust in my eyes.” He paused, and then, as Kenneth did not immediately answer him, added gently: “Another hit. What say you?”'
Kenneth laughed, and said with a good deal of delight: “A touch, a touch, I do confess.” You know, I'm beginning to like you quite a lot.”
“I might return that compliment, if it occurs to you to stop trying to hoodwink me. You are fond of quoting from Hamlet (though not always sure of your source), so I will give you one more line to digest: “Take care that you don't become as a woodcock to your own springe'.”
“Ah, justly killed with mine own treachery!” I'll take such care - Osric - that I won't let this conversation alter my attitude by so much as a hair's-breath.”
Roger leaned sideways in his chair to say confidentially to Giles: “It's getting a bit too high-brow for me. Is his name Osric? I thought you said it was Harrington.”
“There is such a thing as being too clever, Mr Vereker.”
“I'll take your word for it. But I am only being honest. Didn't you come here tonight to see how I was reacting to the prodigal's return?”
Hannasyde smiled faintly. Antonia, watching him, said dispassionately: “They bleed on both sides.” I hoped I'd be able to get that one off sooner or later.”
This sally seemed to complete Roger's bewilderment. He had been trying to follow the dialogue, but he gave it up at that point, and shut his eyes.
“You're not being exactly helpful, Kenneth,” said his cousin.
“Why should I be? I don't want the murderer to be unmasked - unless it was Roger, of course. I approve of him.”
Roger opened his eyes again. “Now, that's a very sensible remark,” he said. “I don't mean the bit about me, but the rest of it. I don't want to know either, and if we don't, what's it got to do with anyone else? That's what I complain about in policemen. Always poking their noses into other people's business.”
“You can't blame them for that,” said Antonia reasonably. “They pretty well have to. But it does seem to me much more important at the moment to decide what's to be done about you. It's all very well for you to say you can't advance any money, Giles, but you needn't think we're going to let Roger wear all Kenneth's clothes while you sit on the cash.”
“No,” Roger said, his interest reviving. “Because I don't like any of his shirts, for one thing.”
Antonia at once took up the cudgels on behalf of her brother's taste, and since the argument showed signs of developing swiftly into an abstract discussion on sartorial matters, Hannasyde apparently judged it wisest to go away. The Verekers paid very little attention to his departure, but Giles escorted him to the front door, and said that he had all his sympathy.
“Thanks,” returned Hannasyde. “Was Roger Vereker deported, by any chance?”
“Probably,” said Giles, with perfect equanimity. “At all events, he's been cast up penniless on our hands.”
Hannasyde looked at him under his brows. “Are you acting for him, Mr Carrington?”
“Not if I know it,” answered Giles.
A few moments later, having sped the Superintendent on his way, he returned to the studio to find that the argument had been interrupted by Violet, who throughout Hannasyde's visit had sat quietly at the other end of the room, turning over the leaves of a magazine. “I held my tongue while that man was here,” she was saying. “But I really was shocked at the way you went on, Kenneth. It's so silly of you, and childish. We know you didn't kill your half-brother, but you're simply asking for trouble, talking as you did. And I must say I don't think it's particularly nice of you, or sporting, to be so unkind to Mr Vereker.”