“And—excuse this question—you didn’t sleep at all during the evening? No one could have knocked while you were asleep?”
The Colonel smiled slightly.
“Ingenious,” he remarked, “but unproductive. No, I didn’t sleep at all.”
“Thank you,” said French, “that disposes of one question. Now the other. Can you tell me anything likely to be helpful to me about either of the two gentlemen?”
The colonel regretted that in this case also he could do nothing to oblige. He would answer Mr. French’s questions so far as he could, but he had nothing to volunteer. And French found that after half an hour’s interrogation he had learnt just nothing whatever.
“There is one other matter to which I must refer,” he said. “I regret the necessity, as it’s somewhat delicate. Common report says that Mrs. Berlyn was on very intimate terms first with Mr. Pyke and then with yourself. Would you tell me how far that is true?”
The colonel squared his shoulders again and French presently saw that it was an unconscious nervous trick.
“Is it really necessary that Mrs. Berlyn’s name should be dragged in?” he asked, stiffly.
“I’m afraid so. You will recognise that I am trying to find motives.”
“I don’t think you will find one there.”