“I admit it,” said Michael recklessly.
“Did you speak the truth when you said that my uncle——” she stopped, at a loss for words.
“No, I did not,” replied Michael quietly. “You uncle is dead, Miss Leamington.”
“Dead!” she gasped.
He nodded.
“He was murdered, in extraordinary circumstances.”
Suddenly her face went white.
“He wasn’t the man whose head was found at Esher?”
“How did you know?” he asked sharply.
“It was in this morning’s newspaper,” she said, and inwardly he cursed the sleuth-hound of a reporter who had got on to the track of this latest tragedy.