Mr. Murbles having withdrawn, Wimsey and Parker faced each other over the remains of the breakfast.
"Peter," said the detective, "I don't know if I've done the right thing by coming. If you feel—"
"Look here, old man," said his friend earnestly, "let's cut out the considerations of delicacy. We're goin' to work this case like any other. If anything unpleasant turns up, I'd rather you saw it than anybody else. It's an uncommonly pretty little case, on its merits, and I'm goin' to put some damn good work into it."
"If you're sure it's all right—"
"My dear man, if you hadn't been here I'd have sent for you. Now let's get to business. Of course, I'm settin' off with the assumption that old Gerald didn't do it."
"I'm sure he didn't," agreed Parker.
"No, no," said Wimsey, "that isn't your line. Nothing rash about you—nothing trustful. You are expected to throw cold water on my hopes and doubt all my conclusions."
"Right ho!" said Parker. "Where would you like to begin?"
Peter considered. "I think we'll start from Cathcart's bedroom," he said.