“Certainly!”
“And this came into your possession—how?”
“I found it on the table by Duson’s side.”
“You intend to produce it at the inquest?”
“I think not,” Mr. Sabin answered.
There was a short silence. Passmore was revolving a certain matter in his mind—thinking hard. Mr. Sabin was apparently trying to make rings of the blue smoke from his cigarette.
“Has it occurred to you,” Passmore asked, “to wonder for what reason your wife visited these rooms on the morning of Duson’s death?”
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
“I cannot say that it has.”
“She knew that you were not here,” Passmore continued. “She left no message. She came closely veiled and departed unrecognised.” Mr. Sabin nodded.