She drove herself to the police station, and was taken at once to the somewhat comfortless office where Hannasyde was going through a pile of documents.
He got up as she came in, and favoured her with a rather keen look. "Good-afternoon, Mrs. North. Will you sit down?"
She took a chair on the side of the desk opposite to him. "Thank you. Do you know, the only time I've ever been to a police station before was about a dog I once lost?"
"Indeed?" he said. "What is it you wish to say to me, Mrs. North?"
She raised her eyes to his face. "I want to tell you something which I ought to have told you this morning," she said frankly.
"Yes?"
His voice betrayed nothing but a kind of polite interest. She found it a little disconcerting, and stumbled over her next words. "It was silly of me, but you know how it is when one is suddenly confronted - or no, perhaps you don't. It's always you who - who asks the questions, isn't it?"
"I have had plenty of experience of people who either concealed the truth, or told me only a part of it, if that is what you mean, Mrs. North."
"I suppose it is," she admitted. "Perhaps you can understand, though, how awkward it was for me, when you - well, exposed my - my indiscretions this morning. I won't attempt to deny that I was badly rattled, not because of the murder, because I had nothing to do with that, but because I'm not the sort of woman my dealings with Mr. Fletcher might have led you to suppose, and - and there could be nothing worse from my point of view than to have an indiscretion - like that - made public. The only idea in my head this morning was to admit as little as I need. You - you do understand that, don't you?"
He nodded. "Perfectly, Mrs. North. Please go on!"