“Did Sir Gregory tell you he was returning?”
“No.” She shook her head again. “He told me he was glad to see the last of him, and that he had borrowed fifty pounds until next week, when he expected to make a lot of money. Gregory is like that—he will tell you things about people, things which they ask him not to make public. He is rather proud of his wealth and what he calls his charity.”
“You had a luncheon engagement with him?” said Michael, watching her.
She bit her lip.
“You must have heard me talking when I left him,” she said. “No, I had no luncheon engagement. That was camouflage, intended for anybody who was hanging around, and we knew somebody had been in the house that night. Was it you?”
Michael nodded.
“Oh, I’m so relieved!” She heaved a deep sigh. “Those few minutes in that dark room were terrible to me. I thought it was——” She hesitated.
“Bhag?” suggested Michael, and she nodded.
“Yes. You don’t suspect Gregory of killing Foss?”
“I suspect everybody in general and nobody in particular,” said Michael. “Did you see Bhag?”