Roger looked startled and tut-tutted several times. “I can't understand it at all. I call it very shocking, very shocking indeed. Who did that to the poor fellow?”
“We don't know,” replied his sister. “Kenneth or I, probably.”
“You shouldn't joke about it,” said Roger. “How would you like to have a knife stuck in your back? When did it all happen?”
“Last Saturday,” said Antonia.
Roger stared at her and then looked round for a chair. He sat down. “Well, I'm surprised,” he said. “Extremely surprised.”
Kenneth paused in his pacing. “Just how long have you been in England?” he demanded.
“I'll tell you,” answered Roger obligingly. “I landed yesterday. Extraordinary coincidence. I mean, I come home expecting to see poor old Arnold, and I find he's just been killed.”
“If that was what you expected to do why didn't you go to Eaton Place instead of coming here?”
“Figure of speech,” explained Roger. “When I said that I expected to see Arnold, what I meant was that I didn't think he'd be dead.” He drew Antonia's attention to Leslie Rivers, who had risen from the table, and was putting on her hat before the mirror. “Someone's going. Nobody need go on my account, you know.”
“I think I will, though,” Leslie said. “I expect you've got a lot to say to each other.”