"As I see it," replied Sally, "the second victim - we won't call him yours just yet - knew too much about the first murder, and had to be disposed of. Unfortunate, of course, but, given the first murder, I quite see it was inevitable."
Neville drew a deep breath. "The weaker sex!" he said. "When I recall the rubbish that has been written about women all through the ages, it makes me feel physically unwell. Relentless, primitive savagery! Inability to embrace abstract ideas of right and wrong utterly disruptive to society. Preoccupation with human passions nauseating and terrifying."
Sally replied calmly: "I think you're probably right. When it comes to the point we chuck all the rules overboard. Abstractions don't appeal to us much. We're more practical than you, and - yes, I suppose more ruthless. I don't mean that I approve of murder, and I daresay if I read about these two in the papers I should have thought them a trifle thick. But it makes a difference when you know the possible murderer. You'd think me pretty rotten if I shunned you just because you'd killed one man I loathed, and another whom I didn't even know existed."
"I'm afraid, Sally, you're proving Neville's point for him," said North, faintly smiling. "The fact that he is a friend of yours should not influence your judgment."
"Oh, that's absolute rot!" said Sally. "You might just as well expect Helen to have hated you when she thought you were the murderer."
"So I might," he agreed, apparently still more amused.
"Well, we've wandered from the point, anyway," she said. "I want to know whether the police can possibly discover more evidence against you, Neville."
"There isn't any evidence! I keep on telling you I had nothing to do with it!" he said.
"Who had, then?" she demanded. "Who could have had?"
"Oh, the mystery man!" he said airily.