“Very clever!” he said. “And pray, how do you account for the fact that there are no bloodstains in my car?”
Kenneth took another drink. “You wrapped the body in an old mackintosh,” he replied.
“Which he afterwards burned in his bedroom grate,” interpolated Giles dryly.
“Oh, no, he didn't! He cut the maker's name out of it, tied it round a boulder and dropped it into the Hammerpond at Huxley Heath,” said Kenneth.
“That's good,” approved Antonia. “But you haven't told us how he managed to murder Arnold without being seen, and get his body into the car.”
“When you have quite finished amusing yourselves at my expense,” said Rudolph furiously, “perhaps you will allow me to tell you that I very much resent your attitude!”
Antonia opened her eyes at him. “I can't see what on earth there is to get annoyed about. After all, Arnold was our relative, and if we don't mind discussing the murder, why should you? We weren't even going to be sure about it if you did it.”
“It seems to me,” said Rudolph, his voice trembling a little, “that I am to be cast for the role of scapegoat!”
“I'm afraid,” said tiles in his calm way, “that you don't understand my cousins' - er - purely intellectual interest in the crime. If you'd prefer not to talk about it there's no sort of reason why you should.”
“Except, of course,” put in Kenneth, “that when I'm put in the witness box, I shall be bound to say that I thought your manner hellish secretive when we talked it over.”