"Yes, I think he might. Judging from what I know of his family. And certain things.'' She hesitated. Her eyes revealed themselves as penetrating and intelligent. "But when was this girl killed?" Her voice quickened. "Was it about the middle of July? The fourteenth or the fifteenth?"
"I can't say," returned Courtney. "Mrs. Fane didn't say anything about that."
"Wait!" snapped H.M. "Why that date?"
"Because I went to the house that night," answered Ann.
There was a stir in the group. Even Masters whirled round from looking at the clock-golf outfit.
"It probably doesn't mean anything! Please! I only-"
"All the same," said H.M., "what about it?" She moistened her lips.
"Nothing. I went over to Vicky's to see whether I could borrow some wool. I live only a stone's throw away from here anyway. It was well past ten o'clock, but in those days the light held until nearly ten. It was the fourteenth… no, the fifteenth of July! I remember, because some French friends of mine gave a party the day before; and that was Bastille Day, the fourteenth."
"Yes?"
"I rang the front doorbell, but there was no answer and I couldn't see any lights in the house. I didn't think they could all be away — even servants. But I rang again, and still there was no answer. I was just going away when Arthur opened the door."