`Thanks for repeating the question,' she returned. `It's most considerate. If by the Traitors' Gate you mean the one where Phil was found, as I assume you do, the answer is No. I was not near it, at any time except when I passed it going in and coming out.'
Hadley grinned. It was a placid, slow, homely grin, and it made his face almost genial. The woman's face, had hardened, and there was a strained look about her eyes; but she caught the grin, and suddenly laughed.
`All right. Touche. But I'm hanged if I let you pull my leg again, Mr Hadley. I thought you meant it.'
`We now come to the inevitable. Mrs Bitton, do you know anybody who would desire to take Mr Driscoll's life?'
`Nobody would want to kill him. It's absurd. Phil was wonderful. He was a precious lamb.'
General Mason shuddered, and even Hadley winced.
`Ah,' he said. 'He, may have been as you say, a… never mind. When did you last see him?'
`H'm. Well, it's been some time. It was before Lester and I went to Cornwall. He only comes to the house on Sundays. And he wasn't there yesterday, now that I come to think of it.' She frowned. `Yes. Will was so cut up over losing that manuscript, and turning the house upside down.. or did you know about that?'
`We know,' Hadley answered, grimly.
`Wait a bit. Wait. I'm wrong,' she corrected, putting her hand down on the desk. 'He did come in for, a short time rather late Sunday night, to pay his respects to us. He was on his way, to the newspaper, office to turn in his story, I remember: about the barrister's wig on the cab-horse. Don't you remember, Will?'