“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” said Margaret, her face falling. “Then it won’t be much use?”
“I doubt it. Still, we mustn’t disregard the possibility. Of course if you could find some place that the inspector may have overlooked—! Documentary evidence of that sort, you see, would be hidden very carefully away by a person of Mrs. Vane’s criminal—shall we say?—training. And after all, the inspector wouldn’t have been looking for anything like that. Probably he’ll only have glanced through the obvious, merely as a matter of routine.”
“Well, let’s hope for the best,” Margaret smiled. “Anyhow, if I don’t find something I promise you it won’t be for want of looking.”
“By the way,” said Roger, dismissing this topic, “how’s Dr. Vane?”
“George? Oh, he’s all right. Why?”
“I only wondered. No interesting developments yet?”
Margaret laughed. “You mean Miss Williamson? Oh, give her time. I don’t think any woman could be expected to propose to a man in less than a week from his wife’s death, really.”
“Roger judges everybody by himself,” interposed Anthony maliciously.
“I wasn’t going so far as to suggest that she’d actually proposed to him yet, Margaret,” Roger explained mildly. “I was just asking whether there’d been any developments, of any sort.”
“If there have been, then, I don’t know them. I hardly ever see either of them in these days. They seem to be spending more time in the laboratory than ever.”