"Sit on the bed, Sir John," she laughed, "Evie broke the leg of the chair last night."
He obeyed her, looking at her quizzically.
"I saw Ronald Morelle at lunch today," he said, "I thought it best to see you—first. And let me get the will off my mind. It has been proved and there is a hundred or so to come to you. Ambrose was not well off, his salary in fact was ridiculously small. That, however, is by the way. I saw Ronnie."
She returned his steady searching gaze.
"Did you talk to Ronnie?"
"I talked to Ronnie," he nodded, "and Ronnie talked to me. Have you ever seen a man who had the odd habit of rubbing his chin with the back of his hand? I see that you have. Ronnie for example? Yes, I thought you would have noticed it."
"How did you know that he had been to see me?"
His thin hard face softened in a smile.
"Who else would he have come to see?"
"Beryl," she answered promptly and he looked surprised.