"Well, I've no doubt he will explain his reasons when you meet in town. You go there next week, and Harold is only at Aldershot. He has written to you?"
"Several times, and always fondly. But he has never explained his leaving without seeing me. It's no good, Lady Jenny; I confess I am angry. Yet he may have avoided seeing me on account of the murder."
Lady Jenny looked up sharply. "Why should he?" Brenda hesitated. She was thinking of Harold's suspicions regarding her father, and did not want to tell them to the dead man's widow. For the moment she had forgotten to whom she was speaking. But, having committed herself so far, she was obliged to get out of the difficulty as best she could.
"You know Inspector Woke suspected Harold?" she said, nervously avoiding Lady Jenny's sharp black eyes; "he said----"
"I know--I know. Woke told me of his suspicions. He's a fool--to suspect Harold of killing Gilbert just because they had a few words is ridiculous, and I told him so. Nobody will ever know who killed Gilbert."
"You speak very confidently," said Brenda, amazed at her hard tone.
"Because I feel confident," retorted the other. "There is not a scrap of evidence against any one. All that could be said was said at the inquest. Woke and his police have been doing their best to get at the truth, and have failed. The revolver was not found; no one knew why Gilbert went out walking on that night, or whom he met, and--oh, the whole thing is over and done with. It is only one more of the many undiscovered crimes."
"Do you suspect any one?"
"Not a soul. Why should I? Gilbert had many enemies--so he said--but I don't know any of them, and I don't suppose any one of them would have gone the length of murder."
"The police here are such sillies," put in Brenda. "Why don't you get a clever detective down from London?"