"All right, precious. I saw him drive past the house on the way to the station. Flying the country?"
"Not he. John's not that sort. Besides, why should he?"
Neville regarded her with sleepy shrewdness. "Do not bother to put on the frills with me, sweet maid. It is worrying for you, isn't it?"
"Not in the least. My interest in the murder is purely academic. Why do they think the instrument is still on the premises? Because of what Helen said?"
"They don't confide in me as much as you'd think they would," replied Neville. "What did Helen say?"
"Oh, that she was sure the man she saw wasn't carrying anything!"
"Bless her little heart, did she? Isn't she fertile? First, she didn't see the man at all; now she knows he wasn't carrying anything. Give her time and she'll remember that he had bandy legs and a squint."
"You poisonous reptile, just because it wasn't light enough for her to recognise the man -'
"Oh, do you think it wasn't?" asked Neville. "You've a kind heart, and no Norman blood."
"Oh! So you think she did recognise the man, and that it was John, do you?"