“These are strange questions, Detective Barrant. I really cannot tell you that either, because I do not know.”
He put up his glasses to look at Barrant with an assumption of resentment, but the detective’s return glance was hard and searching. “Was your son in to dinner that night?” he asked.
“We have midday dinner, in this house.”
“Well, supper. Was he in to supper?”
Austin reflected rapidly. He dared not refuse to answer the question, and any attempt to mislead the questioner would only make things worse when the two women in the house knew the truth.
“Yes. He was in to supper.”
“And went out afterwards?”
This was put more as a simple statement of fact than a question. Again, Austin’s subtle intelligence could see no better course than truth.
“He did. My son frequently goes out walking of an evening after supper.”
“What time did he return—on this evening?”