“Then can’t we still keep it to ourselves?” said Joan, with a note of hope in her voice.
The superintendent shook his head. “I suppose you realise,” he said, “that you have both committed a very serious offence. But I won’t be too hard on you—especially as you have shown yourselves such creditable amateurs in my line of business,” he added with a smile. “But I am afraid the whole story must come out now. There is really no question about that.”
“But surely,” said Joan, “there’s no one to try now: so you can’t have a trial. I don’t see why you should want to drag the whole beastly story to light. It will——”
“Pardon me, Miss Cowper. There will have to be an inquest on Carter Woodman, and you and Mr. Ellery will have to tell what you know.”
“But can’t we say he committed suicide—it’s quite true, he did, and leave it at that,” said Joan.
“Yes,” Ellery put in, “and give evidence about his embarrassed financial position as a reason for taking his life.”
“Quite impossible,” said the superintendent. “I fear the story must come out; but, as there will be no trial, there will not really be very much publicity. You will do best to tell the whole story at the inquest. It will all blow over very soon.”
“But what about poor Helen—I mean Mrs. Woodman?” said Joan.
“I am afraid she will have to bear it as best she can.”