"I knew him years ago," said Mrs. May.
"Oh, indeed!" Geoffrey replied. "He never mentioned that."
Mrs. May drew a long breath. Evidently she had nothing to fear. Her arch-enemy had gone to his account, leaving no mischief behind. Sooner or later the man would have had to be removed; now he had gone away, saving all the trouble. Really, it was very considerate of Tchigorsky.
"You might come to the inquest and say he was a friend of yours," said Geoffrey.
Mrs. May looked at him sharply. Had she said too much or did he suspect? But Geoffrey's eyes were clear and innocent of meaning. Mrs. May shuddered. These kind of horrors made her ill, she said.
"Pray do not mention that fact," she implored. "It can do no good and it may cause a great deal of harm."
Geoffrey disclaimed every intention of making mischief. Besides, as Mrs. May pointed out, there was his uncle Ralph. Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders.
"It is a hard thing to say," he murmured, "but my poor uncle's testimony would not carry much weight. That accident he had some years ago injured his brain. But he is harmless."
Mrs. May exchanged a few more or less banal remarks with her companion and drove on. She had got nothing out of Geoffrey, but he had baffled her and, what was more, had succeeded in lulling a set of lively suspicious to sleep.