"Good afternoon, my dear," he said, smiling paternally on Ann. "And to you, gentlemen. Chief Inspector Masters I know, but I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, at least formally, Sir Henry Merrivale."
"How-de-do," said H.M. vaguely. "Been gardening"
"If I have an amiable weakness," replied Hubert, dropping the shears on the ground and dusting his hands with a silk handkerchief, "it is for roses. Like Sergeant Cuff and Geek and other worthies of detective instincts, I—"
"Know anything about grapefruit?" Hubert stopped short.
"Not as a gardener. My only knowledge of grapefruit consists of the fact that I cordially dislike it, though my niece is fond of it and my nephew also favored it."
"So? Arthur Fane liked grapefruit too?"
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
"Mrs. Fane took poison in grapefruit," said H.M.
It was seldom possible to surprise Hubert. This almost did it. He remained motionless, a half-smile still on his face.
"Let me be quite clear about this," he requested, after a pause. "Are you attempting to tell me that my courageous but long-suffering niece was poisoned twice?"