“You’re not connected with the press by any chance, Mr. Sheringham, are you?” the inspector asked suspiciously.
“Oh, no; it’s just natural curiosity,” Roger laughed. “Not for publication, and all that.”
“I was thinking you might get me into trouble if it came out that I’d been talking more than I ought to, sir. But I haven’t found anything more out in any case.”
“Lady Stanworth wasn’t any help?”
“Not a bit, sir. She couldn’t throw any light on it at all. I didn’t keep her long. Or any of the others, either, for that matter. There was nothing more to be got out of them, and I’ve got to get back and make out my report.”
“Not even found the safe’s combination?”
“No,” returned the inspector disappointedly. “I shall have to ring up the makers and get that. I’ve taken a note of the number.”
“And who saw him last?”
“Mrs. Plant. He stopped her in the hall to ask her if she liked some roses he’d had specially sent up to her room for her, and left her to go into the library. Nobody saw him after that.”
“And is the body still in there?”