This casual invitation produced a noticeable tension in two at least of the party. Antonia, thinking it a trifle crude, scowled at Roger, and Kenneth fixed Violet with a smouldering gaze, awaiting her answer.
She excused herself gracefully, but failed to satisfy Kenneth, who harked back to the invitation on the way home, and informed her that in case she had any idea of spending the evening with Roger she could get rid of it immediately.
“Darling, how silly you are!” she sighed. “Of course, I'm not going to do any such thing! Didn't you hear me refuse?”
“I heard,” Kenneth said rather grimly. “But it also transpired, my love, in the course of Roger's artless chatter, that you dined with him two nights ago — a circumstance hitherto unknown to me.”
She coloured slightly. “Oh, you mean the night you were out!” she said. “Well, what if I did? Tony apparently went off with Rudolph, and poor Roger was left alone in the flat. I merely took pity on him.”
“You have a lovely nature, my sweet. I suppose it slipped your memory, which was why you forgot to tell me about it.”
“I knew you would make a ridiculous fuss if I did tell you,” replied Violet, in her calm way. “You're so taken up with your own grievance, Kenneth, that you don't see that Roger's really rather a pathetic figure.”
“No, I can't say that I do.”
“Well, I find him so. If he did commit the murder, of course it's dreadful, but I can't help feeling sorry for him. The whole thing is very much on his mind. I know he pretends it isn't, but he has the idea that the police are watching him all the time.”
“Form of DT,” said Kenneth callously. “The police haven't any more reason to suspect Roger than they have to suspect me. It's time we gave up thinking about it. No one will ever be arrested; and, what's more, the police know it. Are you coming to the Albert Hall Ball, or are you not?”