“On Sunday?”
“I daresay it may have been a Sunday. I didn't notice.”
“So that on the night of 17th June you were in England?”
“That's right,” agreed Roger. “If I'd known that Arnold was going to be murdered, I wouldn't have been, but it can't be helped now.”
“Where did you spend that night, Mr Vereker?” Roger finished what was left in his glass, and set it down. His sleepy gaze travelled from one intent face to the other.
“Well, that's a very awkward question,” he confessed.
“Why is it an awkward question?”
“Because I don't know what to say,” answered Roger. The Superintendent's brows began to draw together.
“You can say where you were on the night of 17th June, Mr Vereker!”
“Well, that's where you're wrong,” said Roger. “I can't.”