"Spinelli," put in the bishop complacently.
"For God's sake," said Dr. Fell, turning to glare, "shut up, will you? I happen to be in charge here."
Morley Standish jumped. There was a puzzled and somewhat shocked expression on his face. But he answered bitterly:
"You know his name, do you? Well, that reminds me. Bishop Donovan was right. If we'd had the sense to listen to him when he first told us about the fellow,' this mightn't have happened. With all my, father's good points—" He hesitated. "Never mind. We could have prevented it."
"I wonder," said Dr. Fell. "What traces of him have you found today? I gather Spinelli hasn't been tracked down?"
"Not so far as I know. But I haven't seen Murch since noon."
"H'mf. Now, Mr. Standish, if Spinelli killed your prospective father-in-law, why do you suppose he did it? What connection was there between a studious, harmless old gentleman like Depping, and an American blackmailer with a police record?"
Standish got his pipe lighted, and twitched the match away before he answered. His heavy face had grown more stolid. "I say, Mr. — what was it — oh — Dr. Fell, why ask me? I don't know any more than — well, my father, say. Why ask me?"
"Did you and Miss Depping ever discuss him, for instance?"
"Ah," said Standish. He looked straight at the doctor. "That's rather a personal question, you know. Still, it's easily answered. Betty — Miss Depping — scarcely knew her father at all. And she doesn't remember her mother. From the age of seven or eight she was in a convent at Trieste. Then she was put in one of those super-strict French boarding schools. When she was eighteen she — well, hang it, she's got spirit, and she couldn't stand it; so she broke out and ran away… " First Morley Standish's correct face looked somewhat embarrassed, and then he grinned. "Ran away, by Jove! Damned good, eh?" he demanded, and brushed at his Hitler moustache, and slapped his leg. "Then the old ba — Mr. Depping permitted her to live with a hired companion (one of those courtesy aunts) in Paris. All this time she only saw him at long intervals. But she wrote to him at some address in London. About five years ago, when she was twenty, he suddenly turned up and said he'd retired from business. The funny part of it was that though he was always worrying about her, and what mischief she might be up to, he never asked her to live with him—" In full flight Standish checked himself. "I say, you needn't repeat all this, need you? That is, I know more about it than my father, I admit, but…"