"If that's acting, it's good," said Neville, looking at her critically. "Did you see who did?"
She was frowning. "Did I see who did what?"
"Knocked Ernie on the head. My pretty ninny, Ernie's been murdered."
A sound between a scream and a whimper broke from her. "Neville! Oh no! Nerrille, you don't mean that!"
He looked at her with a smile lilting on his mouth. "Didn't you know?"
Her eyes searched his, while the colour receded slowly from her face. "I didn't do it!" she gasped.
"I shouldn't think you'd have the strength," he agreed.
They were interrupted by the opening of the door. A slim young woman with a cluster of brown curls, a monocle screwed into her left eye, entered the room, saying calmly: "Did you call, Helen?" Her gaze alighted on Neville; she said with every appearance of disgust: "Oh, you're here, are you?"
"Yes, but I wouldn't have been if I'd known you were, hell-cat," responded Neville sweetly.
Miss Drew gave a contemptuous snort, and looked critically at her sister. "You look absolutely gangrenous," she remarked. "Anything the matter?"