Giles did not answer. Antonia went out with him, and at the front door detained him for a few moments. “Giles , it's getting worse. I'm dead sure he was with Roger last night. You can always tell when Kenneth's lying. He does it so badly. What will happen if they find it out?”
“Tony, my dear, I don't know, because I've no idea when he went there, or what he did there. But things are going to look remarkably ugly if he's caught out in a lie. Everything points to him already.”
“Yes, I can see that, but I don't believe he did it all the same,” she replied. “I wish Leslie hadn't nipped in with that alibi before he had time to speak. I think she's queered his pitch.” She paused, and then said in a troubled way: “There's one rather horrid thing, Giles. I don't know whether you've thought of it. If Kenneth didn't do it - who could have? Nobody else had any reason to kill Roger.”
“Yes, I have thought of it,” he said curtly.
“I expect a jury would too?” she suggested, raising her eyes to his face.
“Undoubtedly.” He took her hands, and held them comfortingly. “Don't worry, chicken. I don't believe Kenneth did it any more than you do.” He smiled down at her. “Here's one cheering thought for you at least: Mesurier looks like being cleared of all suspicion.”
“Oh, him!” said Antonia. “I'd forgotten about him. He's fed-up with me, by the way. Not that I blame him. I don't think I'll get engaged any more. It doesn't seem to lead anywhere.”
“It will next time,” said Giles. “That I promise you.” He gave her hands a quick squeeze, released them, and ran down the stairs to his car.
Five minutes later he drew up outside a house in a street leading up from the Embankment. It had been converted into two maisonettes, the one on the ground and the first floor having Violet Williams's name on a brass plate beside the door.
He rang the bell, and was presently admitted by a middle-aged woman in a dirty overall. Her method of announcing him was to call out: “Oh, Miss Williams, here's somebody to see you!”
Violet came out of a room at the front of the house. She gave an exclamation of surprise at seeing Giles. “Why, Mr Carrington! I'd no idea! Do come in!”
He followed her into a sitting-room furnished in bleached oak with jade-green curtains and cushions. A table in the bay window had a litter of sketches on it, and the chair, pushed back from it, seemed to indicate that Violet had been working there. Giles said: “I hope I'm not disturbing you. You look as though you were busy.”
“Of course not. Won't you sit down? I apologise for the creature who let you in, by the way! I don't keep a proper maid. She's just a char who comes to clean in the mornings.” She picked up a cigarette-box from a low table by the fireplace, and offered it to him. “Don't think me terribly rude,” she said, smiling, “but what on earth do you want to see me about?”
He struck a match, and held it to the cigarette she had taken from the box. “I'm hoping you will be able to induce Kenneth to behave sensibly,” he answered.
She laughed. “Oh, I'm afraid he's impossible! What has he been up to?”
“I wish I knew, Miss Williams. You see, something rather shocking has happened. Roger Vereker has been found shot in his flat.”
She gave a start. “Mr Carrington! Oh no!”
“I'm afraid it is quite true,” he said gravely.
She put a hand over her eyes. “How awful! Poor, poor Roger. I never dreamed he was feeling it all as badly as that. I knew he was on edge, of course, but that he would actually - oh, it doesn't bear thinking about!”
“Was he in a very nervous state?” Giles asked. “I believe you saw more of him than anyone - you would probably know.”
“Yes, he was,” she answered. “He had it fixed in his mind that the police were hounding him down. I was saying so to Kenneth only the other day. He didn't see it - or wouldn't see it, but then Kenneth isn't always very observant.” She let her hand fall. “But that he should have actually take his own life! I can't get over it!”
“I don't think he did take his own life, Miss Williams.”
She turned very pale. “You mean - oh, impossible!”
“It was meant to look like suicide,” Giles said, “but there are one or two circumstances which point rather conclusively to murder.”
She shuddered. “I can't believe that. Please tell me what reason you have for saying such a thing!”
“My chief reason is purely technical,” he said.
“But the police - do they think it was murder?”
“They think it very probable,” said Giles.
She was silent for a moment, still very white, her eyes fixed on the glowing end of her cigarette. She raised them presently, and said: “You mentioned something about Kenneth. But, whatever happened no one can suspect him of having had anything to do with it. He was at the Albert Hall last night with Leslie Rivers.”
“He was at the Albert Hall, I know,” agreed Giles. “But the Albert Hall is not five minutes' walk from Roger's fiat, Miss Williams. Nor are the police at all satisfied that he didn't leave the dance for a time during the course of the evening. In fact, though he won't admit it, I am pretty sure that not only did he leave the dance, but he also called on Roger.”
“I'm sure he didn't!” she said quickly. “Why should he? There could be no reason for doing such a stupid thing.”
He hesitated. “I think there was a reason,” he answered. “May I speak quite frankly?”
“Oh, please do!”
“Well, Miss Williams, Kenneth has — as you probably know - a very jealous temperament. Do you remember that on the evening when we all dined with Roger he invited you to dine with him again on the night of the ball?”
She said rather coldly: “Yes, certainly I remember that, but it was merely a joke.”
“It is just possible that Kenneth took it seriously,” Giles said.
“Really, I think that is a little too ridiculous!” she said, half-laughing. “Why do you assume that he was at Roger's flat last night? Does he admit it?”
“No. But we found his pipe, with the ash in it, on the mantelpiece in Roger's sitting-room,” he replied.
“His pipe — ?” she stared at him. How do you know it was his?”
“Both Hannasyde and I recognised it.”
“Recognised a pipe!” she exclaimed. “How could you?”
He smiled. “To a pipe-smoker all pipes don't look the same, Miss Williams. But that's beside the point. Kenneth admitted it was his as soon as he saw it.”
She looked at him with an expression of incredulous horror in her eyes. “But it's impossible! I don't believe it! What time was Kenneth in the flat? What was he doing there?”
“That is precisely what I, as his legal adviser, want to find out,” said Giles. “According to Miss Rivers he was never out of her sight the entire evening. Kenneth corroborated that statement, but only after a moment's perceptible hesitation, Miss Williams. To put it baldly, he was quite obviously lying. His tale - or rather Miss Rivers's tale - is that the whole party met after each dance, in the box they were sharing. Superintendent Hannasyde has only to question the other members of the party to find out whether that is true or not. If - as I am very much afraid — it is not true, Kenneth will be in an extremely dangerous position. And since he has this bee in his bonnet, that he's capable of handling his own case without assistance, I can't do anything to help him.”
“But why do you come to me?” she interrupted. “What has it got to do with me? What can I do about it?”
“I hope very much that you will exert your influence to make him see sense,” replied Giles. “He doesn't realise how serious the situation is, nor how essential it is that I at least should know the truth about his movements last night.”
She struck her hands together, as though exasperated. “He's a fool!” she said. “Why on earth should he elect to call on Roger last night? What took him there? It's utterly mad!”
“There is one all too obvious reason, Miss Williams,” said Giles.
She looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. “I can't imagine -” She stopped; her eyelids flickered.