"He was, and if I'd been asked I should have voted against his death. But I wasn't, and if there's one occupation that seems more maudlin to me than any other it's crying over spilt milk. Besides, you can have too much of a good thing. I'd had enough of this mystery after the second day. Interest - but painful - revived when I stepped into the role of chief suspect. I must celebrate my reprieve from the gallows. How do you ask a girl if she'd like to marry you?"
"How do you do what?" repeated the Sergeant, faint but pursuing.
"Don't you know? I made sure you would."
"Are you - are you thinking of getting married, sir?" asked the Sergeant, amazed.
"Yes, but don't tell me I'm making a mistake, because I know that already. I expect it will ruin my entire life."
"Then what are you going to do it for?" said the Sergeant reasonably.
Neville made one of his vague gestures. "My changed circumstances. I shall be hunted for my money. Besides, I can't think of any other way to get rid of it."
"Well," said the Sergeant dryly, "you won't find any difficulty about that if you do get married, that's one thing."
"Oh, do you really think so? Then I'll go and propose at once, before I have time to think better of it. Goodbye!"
The Sergeant called after him: "Here, sir, don't you run away with the idea I said you were cleared of suspicion, because I didn't say any such thing!"