Mrs. Berlyn looked startled.
“Whatever do you mean, Inspector?” she demanded. “You don’t mean against me personally, I suppose, but against my husband? I do not forget the terrible suggestion you made.”
“I mean against you personally, madam. As I say, I want an explanation of certain facts. If you care to give it I shall hear it with attention, but if you would prefer to consult a solicitor first, you can do so.”
“Good gracious! Inspector, you are terrifying me! You are surely not suggesting that you suspect me of complicity in this awful crime?”
“I make no accusations. All I want is answers to my questions.”
Mrs. Berlyn grew slowly dead white. She moistened her dry lips.
“This is terrible,” she said in low tones. French had some twinges of conscience, for, after all, he was only bluffing. He recognised, however, that the greater the effect he produced, the more likely he was to get what he wanted. He therefore continued his third degree.
“If you are innocent, madam, I can assure you that you have nothing to fear,” he encouraged her, thereby naturally increasing her perturbation. “Now would you like to answer my questions or not?”
She did not hesitate. “I have no option,” she exclaimed in somewhat shaky tones. “If I do not do so your suspicions will be confirmed. Ask what you like. I have nothing to hide and therefore cannot give myself away.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” French declared, grimly. “First I want you to give me a more detailed account of your relations with Colonel Domlio.”