“You're more likely to be in the dock,” said his sister unkindly.
“In that case,” replied Kenneth, finishing his whisky-and-soda, “I shall bring in the embezzlement-motif. Sauve qui peut.”
Mesurier thrust his hands into his pockets and forced his lips to smile. “I rather fancy a jury would see that occurrence in a more reasonable light,” he remarked. “I don't pretend that I was justified in doing what I did, but there's no question of - of theft. I've already paid back a great deal of what I borrowed.”
“The point is, Arnold didn't look at it in a reasonable light at all,” said Antonia.
“There I take issue with you,” said Kenneth immediately. “I don't hold any brief for Arnold, but I can't see why he should be expected to be pleasant about it. You can't pinch a man's money, and then say, "Thank you for the loan" and pay it back in driblets. I don't in the least blame Arnold for cutting up rough, and, what's more, no jury would either. They'll see that Rudolph's got a motive for murder that makes mine look childish.”
“I'm perfectly well aware I'm in an awkward hole,” Mesurier said. “But it's no use you or anyone else trying to fasten the murder on to me. I never owned a knife like that in my life, for one thing, and for another -”
“Just a moment,” interrupted Giles. “A knife like what?”
A wave of colour mounted to Mesurier's face. “A - a knife capable of killing a man. I naturally assume it must have been some sort of dagger. I mean, an ordinary knife could hardly -”
“You saw Arnold Vereker after he was dead, didn't you?” said Giles.
There was a moment's silence. Violet gave a shiver, “You're making me feel sick. Do, do let's talk of something else!”