“I am afraid you are too well known and the illustrated papers are too ubiquitous for that, Mrs. Carnthwacke.”
She emitted a slight scream.
“Oh! How did you know?”
The inspector's smile became more apparent.
“I was a great admirer of Miss Bella Laymond on the Variety stage. I had the pleasure of ‘assisting’ at her marriage with the American millionaire, Cyril B. Carnthwacke—that is to say, I was passing a fashionable church, saw a large waiting crowd, and was lucky enough to get in the first rank and obtain a good view of the beautiful bride. I could not help remembering a face like that, Mrs. Carnthwacke. And now I want you to forget that I am a detective, and just think that I am a friend who is anxious to help you, and tell me all the story of your visit to Mr. Bechcombe.”
He pushed forward a chair as he spoke.
She looked from it to him undecidedly for a minute. Then, as if coming to a sudden resolution, she sat down and pulled the chair nearer to his desk.
“You promise not to tell my—husband what I am going to tell you?”
“I promise,” the inspector said reassuringly. “Now, first please, why did you come to Luke Bechcombe's office on the day of his death?”
“Well, I dare say you know my husband is very rich?”