His brows rose a little. "Are you making a house-to-house visitation of all Fletcher's acquaintances, Superintendent? Or do you suspect my wife of having knocked him on the head? I hardly think she possesses the necessary strength."
"You are well informed, Mr. North. Where did you learn that he had been knocked on the head?"
John North looked at him with a faint smile in his eyes. He drew a folded newspaper from under his arm, and handed it to Hannasyde. "You may study the source of my information if you wish," he said politely.
Hannasyde glanced down the columns of the evening paper. "Quick work," he remarked, folding the paper again, and giving it back. "Were you acquainted with the deceased, Mr. North?"
"I knew him, certainly. I should not describe my acquaintance with him as very close. But if you are interrogating everyone who knew him, perhaps you would like to come into the library, and interrogate me?" He moved to the door as he spoke, and opened it. "Or have you not yet finished questioning my wife?"
"Yes, I think so." Hannasyde turned to Helen, meeting her anguished look with the flicker of a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Mrs. North: I won't take up any more of your time. Good-morning, Miss Drew."
"You haven't seen the last of me by a long chalk," Sally told him. "I don't think my name conveys anything to you, which is rather levelling, but I'm a writer of crime novels, and I have never before had the opportunity of studying a crime at close quarters. What is of particular interest to me is your handling of the case. One is always apt to go wrong on police procedure."
"I suppose so," answered Hannasyde, looking rather appalled.
She gave him a sudden, swift smile. "You've taught me one thing at least: I've always made my detectives a bit on the noisome side up till now."
He laughed. "Thank you!" He bowed slightly to Helen, and went out of the room before John North, who was still holding the door for him.