“I see. Then Graves hadn’t much cause to love him either, I take it?”
“If he hadn’t known what would happen afterwards, I wouldn’t have given Stanworth ten minutes of life in Graves’s presence.”
Roger whistled again.
“Well, thanks very much, Jefferson. I think that’s all I wanted to know.”
“If you’re trying to look for someone who induced Stanworth to shoot himself, you’re wasting your time,” Jefferson remarked. “Couldn’t be done.”
“Oh, there’s a little more in my quest than that,” Roger smiled, as he let himself out of the room.
He hurried upstairs, glancing at his watch as he did so. The time was nearly five minutes to four. He scurried down the passage to Alec’s room.
“Finished packing?” he asked, putting his head round the door. “Good, well come along to my room while I do mine.”
“Well?” Alec asked sarcastically, when they were once more ensconced in Roger’s bedroom. “Has Jefferson written out his confession?”
Roger paused in the act of laying his suitcase on a chair.