"No. I told him that I couldn't see at all clearly, and only had a vague impression of an ordinary sort of man in a light hat."
There was a slight pause. "In a light hat? Oh! And would you recognise him again?"
"No, I tell you! I haven't the least idea who it was!"
"I hope the Superintendent believed you," he remarked.
"Why?" demanded Sally, who had been watching him closely.
He glanced indifferently down at her. "Why? Because I have no desire to see my wife in the witness-box, of course."
"Oh, my God, I shan't have to give evidence, shall I?" gasped Helen. "I couldn't. I'd rather die! Oh, what a ghastly mess it all is!"
"It is indeed," he said.
Sally, who had been rhythmically swinging her monocle on the end of its cord, suddenly screwed it into her eye, and asked: "Does the Superintendent suspect you of having had anything to do with it, John?"
"I've no idea what he suspects. Helen's connection with the crime has evidently given him food for thought. He probably suffers from old-fashioned ideas about jealous husbands."