He interrupted, saying in a matter-of-fact way: "Well, Mrs. North, the question can be settled quite easily. What size in shoes do you wear?"
A quiver ran over her face; she threw a glance towards her sister, who stepped promptly into the breach. "Five-and-a-half, don't you, like me?"
"Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I do. I think most women of our height do."
"Thank you," said Hannasyde. "I wondered if you would lend me the shoes you were wearing last night?"
"Lend you my shoes! Really, Superintcüdrut, that is quite impossible!"
"Why, Mrs. North?"
"Well, you must see - Oh, this is idiotic! I had nothing to do with Ernie Fletcher's death!"
"Then you can have no possible objection to lending me your shoes for half-an-hour," said Hannasyde.
"Of course she hasn't," said Sally. "What's more, you shall have mine as well. I knew Ernest Fletcher too, so presumably there is just as much reason to suspect me of having been at Greystones last night as my sister."
"Not quite," he replied.