“Well, as I say, I ought to have been there at a quarter past twelve, but I dare say it was half-past, or it might have been a quarter to one.”
The inspector kept his keen eyes upon her face; not one change in her expression could escape him.
“Mrs. Carnthwacke, do you know that the doctors have stated that Mr. Bechcombe died about twelve o'clock—sooner rather than later?”
“Twelve o'clock!” Her face turned almost livid in spite of its make-up, but her blue eyes met the inspector's steadily. “It's no use, inspector. I suppose doctors make mistakes like other folks sometimes. Luke Bechcombe was alive, very much alive, when I went in about half-past twelve.”
The inspector did not argue the question, but his eyes did not relax their watchful gaze for one second as he went on.
“How did Mr. Bechcombe seem when you saw him? Did you notice anything peculiar about his manner?”
“Well, I had never seen him before, so I couldn't notice any difference. He just seemed an ordinary, pleasant sort of man. He admired my diamonds very much and said we ought to get a high price for them. He was to have had them valued the next day. Now—now I am in pressing need of money and I want to have them valued myself if you will give them back to me.”
For once Inspector Furnival was shaken out of his usual passivity.
“You—do you mean that you left the diamonds there?”
“Well, of course! Haven't I been telling you so all this time?” Mrs. Carnthwacke said impatiently. “Mr. Bechcombe gave me a receipt for them, and locked them up in his safe—like that one!”