“You are very fond of Dr. Wallace, then?”
Ethel nodded, but did not look up.
“Very fond? Does that mean you are in love with him?”
“No,” she whispered.
I could bear it no longer. “Murder or no murder,” I said, “you’ve no right to ask questions like that.”
Allport held up his hands in despair. “You don’t understand—you simply can’t understand the position you are all of you in. Yes, all of you. Suppose Dr. Wallace were brought to trial, what sort of questions do you imagine the counsel for the defense would ask you? Isn’t it better to talk to me here privately? You don’t imagine I enjoy this kind of thing, I suppose?”
I heard Kenneth mutter, “I’m not so sure of that,” but The Tundish pacified him with a genial:
“Yes, Mr. Allport, you are right of course, but you can’t expect us to enjoy it very much either. I am sure you had better tell him anything you can,” he concluded, turning to Ethel.
“But you are not willing to follow your own advice, Doctor?” Allport snapped.
“I told you all I was at liberty to tell you. I didn’t resent any of your questions.”