“So that if you had found the key Miss Summerson says she lost, you would have had no difficulty in getting at it and using it in—the—way—it—has—been—used?”
“No, I suppose not,” Ethel replied bravely but going as white as a sheet.
Next he turned quite suddenly to Margaret. “And, what were the papers you burned in your bedroom grate, Miss Hunter?”
“I didn’t burn any papers.”
“Oh! Please think carefully now. Surely you did burn something. I found the charred pieces there, myself, and Annie has told me she cleaned out the grate only the morning before. What was it that you burned?”
“I didn’t burn anything.”
“Not a photograph, for instance?”
“I didn’t burn anything at all. I really didn’t.”
“Then you expect me to believe that some one else went into your room for the purpose of burning paper in that particular grate?”
Margaret made no reply to this, and Allport went on to question her closely about where she had lived in Sheffield. At which school had she taught? Why did she leave it? Did she have to work for her living? Then there followed a whole string of rapid questions concerning her previous knowledge of Ralph. How far apart did they live? Did they belong to the same tennis club? Did she see him once a month? Once a week? Once a day? Had they ever been engaged to each other?