“Good heavens!” said Giles Carrington, mildly shocked. “When you say dead, what precisely do you mean?”
“Murdered,” said the Colonel bluntly. “A knife-thrust in the hack.”
There was a moment's silence. “Poor chap!” said Giles, in precisely the same way as he might have said “Dear me!” or “What a pity!” “And do I understand that you have arrested Miss Vereker, or what?”
“No, no, no!” said the Colonel, a look of annoyance coming into his face. “That is merely the ridiculous notion Miss Vereker seems to have got into her head! Miss Vereker, on her own admission, spent the night at her half-brother's house, Riverside Cottage, and all that she was wanted to do was to tell us just why she was there, and what she was doing at the time of the murder. Since she is a close relative of the murdered man, it did not seem unreasonable to expect her to give us what information she can about Mr Vereker's habits and friends; but beyond informing Inspector Jerrold that she loathed her half-brother, hadn't set eyes on him for months, and had come down to Riverside Cottage with the intention of "having something out with him," she refused to say a word.”
A half-laughing, half-rueful look crept into Giles Carrington's eyes. “I think I'd better see her at once,” he said. “I'm afraid you've been having rather a difficult time with her, sir.”
“I have,” said the Colonel. “And I think you should know, Mr Carrington, that her attitude has been extremely - equivocal, let us say.”
“I'm sure it has,” said Giles sympathically. “She can be very tiresome.”
The Superintendent, who had been watching him, said suddenly: “I wonder, Mr Carrington, whether by any chance you are also Mr Arnold Vereker's solicitor?”
“I am,” replied Giles. “I am also one of his executors.”
“Well, then, Colonel,” said Hannasyde, with a smile, “we must be grateful to Miss Vereker, mustn't we? You are the very man I want, Mr Carrington.”