“Oh, by the way, Inspector,” Mrs. Plant put in, “Mr. Sheringham was telling me that I might be wanted to attend the inquest. Is that necessary?”
“I’m afraid so, madam. You were the last person to see Mr. Stanworth alive.”
“Yes, but my—my evidence wouldn’t be of the least importance, would it? The few words I had with him about those roses can’t throw any light on the matter at all.”
“I’m very sorry, madam,” the inspector murmured, “but in these cases the last person to see the deceased alive is invariably called, whether the evidence appears to be of any importance or not.”
“Oh! Then I must take it as quite certain that I shall have to attend?” Mrs. Plant asked disappointedly.
“Quite, madam,” the inspector returned firmly, moving towards the door.
Roger hooked his arm through that of Alec and drew him out through the French windows.
“Well?” asked the latter with an undisguised grin. “Still as sure as ever that those jewels weren’t in the safe, Sherlock Sheringham?”
“Yes. I’ve been expecting a little subtle ridicule from you, Alec,” Roger said with mock humility. “No doubt I deserve it.”
“I’m glad you’re beginning to realise that,” retorted Alec pleasantly.