Thanking Grandmother's Providence first of all, Martin's thoughts raced on, the person killed couldn't have been Jenny. Jenny had been here today, hovering over him, her behaviour being 'unladylike and disgusting.' Lady Brayle and Aunt Cicely were both very much alive. So was Dr. Laurier, whom he had met here in this house early in the morning.
(In front of him, like mumbled voices heard in a crowded room, he was conscious of H.M. and the Chief Inspector talking away. Masters was pointing at Martin, and asking questions about the fall off the roof. H.M. was growling that the victim seemed to have no evidence; and up went Master's blood-pressure again. But little of this penetrated to Martin.)
The person killed, he was thinking, couldn't have been Stannard either. Stannard was as right as rain. Now he knew it couldn't have been Ricky, because Ricky's mother had just asked whether her son was at the pub. That left only…
"Look here!" Martin exclaimed, and jumped up. "Was it Ruth Callice?"
Both the others — Masters with his face red instead of ruddy, H.M. taking out a cigar — swung round.
"Burn it all, son, don't start shoutin' like that," complained the latter, making fussed gestures. "Was she what?"
Martin felt a hollow of dread, with a pulse to it inside his chest
"Was she the victim? Did somebody kill Ruth?"
Yes, his voice had been loud. In the north wall of the room towards the west door opened. It opened to show a glimpse of a billiard-room, corresponding with the library on the other side of the house.
Ruth Callice came out of the billard-room, and' John Stannard after her. They were noticed neither by H.M. nor by Masters. But Martin saw them, and slowly sat down again.