“Hullo,” Roger remarked, as they reached the big cedar, “they’ve left the chairs out here. Let’s take advantage of them.”
“Well?” Alec demanded gruffly when they were seated, disapproval written large in every line of him. “Well? I hope you’re satisfied now.”
Roger pulled his pipe out of his pocket and filled it methodically, gazing thoughtfully into the soft darkness as he did so.
“Satisfied?” he repeated at last. “Well, hardly. What do you think?”
“I think you scared that wretched woman out of her wits for absolutely nothing at all. I told you ages ago you were making a mistake about her.”
“You’re a very simple-minded young man I’m afraid, Alec,” Roger said, quite regretfully.
“Why, you surely don’t mean to say you disbelieve her?” Alec asked in astonishment.
“H’m! I wouldn’t necessarily say that. She may have been speaking the truth.”
“That’s awfully good of you,” Alec commented sarcastically.
“But the trouble is that she certainly wasn’t speaking the whole of it. She’s got something up her sleeve, has that lady, whatever you choose to think, Alec. Didn’t you notice how she tried to pump me? How did I know what time she’d been in there? Had she left anything else there? When did I find the handkerchief? No, her explanation sounds perfectly reasonable, I admit, as far as it goes. But it doesn’t go nearly far enough. It doesn’t explain the powder on the arm of the couch, for instance; and I noticed at dinner that she doesn’t powder her arms. But there’s one thing above all that it leaves entirely out of the reckoning.”