“Just what do you mean?”
“Things are talking to me now. They’re a bit confused, and all I can get is that this room may not be the same as it was then.”
Perkins put her hand to her throat. “How do you know?” she whispered.
Derrick leaned tensely forward. This was evidence, new evidence.
“Go on, Blunt. Tell me just what you’re after.”
“I mean, are things in the same place as when that man was killed?”
A slight sound escaped from Perkins, and her nostrils dilated, while Derrick caught a swift but meaning glance that passed between herself and the gardener.
“I don’t know; I never thought of that. Are they, Perkins?”
“No.” She spoke with a sort of satisfaction, not unmingled with surprise. “And,” she added meaningly, “no one else has asked that question for two years.”
“Why do you ask, Blunt?”