But the coldness of the tone had no effect. "I mean, that there may be something I can do for you. Now that your brother is dead--"
"Mr. Jarman is looking after things for me, thank you," said Mildred, stiffly. "The only thing you can do is to find out who killed Walter."
Darrel raised his bushy eyebrows. "There's no difficulty about that, Miss Starth. The verdict of the jury--"
"Was wrong. I can't believe that this Mr. Lancaster committed so horrible and apparently purposeless a crime."
"Have you any reason to believe him innocent?"
Mildred, for obvious reasons, did not answer this question directly. "I can't see his motive," she said, looking down pensively.
"The evidence of that lady at the inquest--"
"I know nothing about any lady," retorted the girl, flushing. Then, to change the conversation and mark her sense of Darrel's bad manners, she asked a question. "Did you know Mr. Lancaster?"
Darrel nodded. "I thought I told you," he said. "He was sitting next to me on that night I saw you in the theatre."
"The night before the tragedy," said Mildred, shuddering. "What is he like to look at?"