"You were still engaged when Lady Dormer died, I take it?"
"As engaged as we ever were. Of course, he told me that there was something funny about the body. He said you and the Fentimans were trying to defraud me of the money. I shouldn't have minded for myself—it was more money than I should have known what to do with. But it would have meant the clinic, you see."
"Yes, you could start a pretty decent clinic with half a million. So that was why you shot me out of the house."
He grinned—and then reflected a few moments.
"Look here," he said, "I'm going to give you a bit of a shock, but it'll have to come sooner or later. Has it ever occurred to you that it was Penberthy who murdered General Fentiman?"
"I—wondered," she said, slowly. "I couldn't think—who else—But you know they suspect me?"
"Oh, well—cui bono and all that—they couldn't overlook you. They have to suspect every possible person, you know."
"I don't blame them at all. But I didn't, you know."
"Of course not. It was Penberthy. I look at it like this. Penberthy wanted money; he was sick of being poor, and he knew you would be certain to get some of Lady Dormer's money. He'd probably heard about the family quarrel with the General, and expected it would be the lot. So he started to make your acquaintance. But he was careful. He asked you to keep it quiet—just in case, you see. The money might be so tied up that you couldn't give it to him, or you might lose it if you married, or it might only be quite a small annuity, in which case he'd want to look for somebody richer."
"We considered those points when we talked it over about the clinic."