"It might be the other way, you know."
"I don't like it, Wimsey. It's very unpleasant. I wish to goodness we could compromise on it."
"But the lady in the case won't compromise. You know that. We've got to get at the facts somehow. I shall certainly get Murbles to suggest the exhumation to Pritchard."
"Oh, lord! What'll he do?"
"Pritchard? If he's an honest man and his client's an honest woman, they'll support the application. If they don't, I shall fancy they've something to conceal."
"I wouldn't put it past them. They're a low-down lot. But they can't do anything without my consent, can they?"
"Not exactly—at least, not without a lot of trouble and publicity. But if you're an honest man, you'll give your consent. You've nothing to conceal, I suppose?"
"Of course not. Still, it seems rather——"
"They suspect us already of some kind of dirty work," persisted Wimsey. "That brute Pritchard as good as told me so. I'm expecting every day to hear that he has suggested exhumation off his own bat. I'd rather we got in first with it."
"If that's the case, I suppose we must do it. But I can't believe it'll do a bit of good, and it's sure to get round and make an upheaval. Isn't there some other way—you're so darned clever——"