“Yes,” agreed Leslie, when Murgatroyd had vanished again, “but she doesn't run deep. She's purely mercenary, and she'll hurt Kenneth.”
“Not she,” replied Antonia. “He knows she's a moneygrubber. Kenneth isn't extraordinarily vulnerable, as a matter of fact.”
Miss Rivers blew her nose rather fiercely. “She's the sort that would wear away a stone,” she said. “Quiet persistence. Hard and cold and calculating. And even if I dyed my hair it wouldn't do any good.” With which sibyllic utterance she picked up the bread-board and marched back to the studio.
From the pantry doorway Murgatroyd watched her go, and remarked that that was what she called a lady. “Why Master Kenneth can't see what's been under his nose ever since you was all of you in the nursery is what beats me,” she declared. “A proper little wife Miss Leslie would make him, but that's men all over. What happened at that Inquest, Miss Tony?”
“Oh, pretty much what Giles said. It was very dull, and they brought in a verdict of Murder against Person or Persons Unknown. The Superintendent's going to go and have a friendly talk with Giles this evening, so probably Giles will put in a good word for us.”
“Hm!” said Murgatroyd grimly. “I don't doubt that's what he thinks, but it's a lot likelier that policeman will get him talking about the family, and go fastening on to something that'll land us all in goal.”
“Good Lord!” said Antonia. “I didn't know there was anything.”
“There's always something if you look for it,” replied Murgatroyd. “And the more smooth-spoken the police are the more you want to mistrust them. Always on the look-out to trip you up. Cat and mouse, they call it.”
The simile, as applied to Superintendent Hannasyde and Giles Carrington, was not strikingly apt, nor, if Giles was full of mistrust and Hannasyde on the watch for an unguarded remark, were these respective attitudes at all apparent when Giles's servant ushered the Superintendent into the comfortable book-lined sitting-room that evening. Hannasyde said as he shook hands: “Nice of you to ask me to look in. I envy you your quarters. They tell me you can't get one of these Temple flats for love or money nowadays.”
Murgatroyd might have detected a sinister trap in these seemingly harmless remarks, but Giles Carrington accepted them at their face value, invited the Superintendent to sit down in one of the deep leather chairs, and supplied him with a drink and a cigar. He had been idly engaged on a chess problem when his visitor arrived, and the sight of the board on the table, with a few pieces set out, naturally inspired Hannasyde, also a humble follower of the game, to inspect the problem narrowly. There was no room for any other thought in either man's head until Black had been successfully mated in the requisite three moves, but when this had been worked out, the pieces put away, a few chess reminiscences exchanged, the scarcity of really keen players deplored, a pause ensued and Giles said: “Well, what about this tiresome murder? Is it going to be an unsolved crime?”