“So I see,” he said dryly. “And did you—pacify him?”
“I defended myself, if that’s what you mean. I returned him almost as good as he gave. You don’t expect me to sit down and be murdered in my own house, do you? I can use a sword as well as any man.”
“And apparently you used it,” said Michael. “What happened to Foss?”
Not a muscle of Penne’s face moved.
“Whom do you mean?”
“I mean Lawley Foss, who was in your house last night.”
“You mean the scenario writer? I haven’t seen him for weeks.”
“You’re a liar,” said Michael calmly. “He was in here last night. I can assure you on this point, because I was in the next room.”
“Oh, it was you, was it?” said the baronet, and seemed relieved. “Yes, he came to borrow money. I let him have fifty pounds, and he went away, and that’s the last I saw of him.”
Michael looked at the sword again.