“Oh, my God, at this hour!” groaned Kenneth. “Say we're out.”
“No, don't. Of course they can come in,” said Antonia. “You don't mind, do you, Leslie? Hullo, Giles! Good morning, Superintendent. Have some coffee!”
The breakfast-table had been laid in the window. Antonia, fully dressed, was seated at one end, behind the coffee-pot, with Leslie Rivers, in a kimono, on one side of her, and Kenneth, in pyjamas, a pair of flannel trousers, and an old blazer, on the other. Kenneth, who looked half asleep, blinked somewhat morosely at the visitors, and said: “Well, what's happened now? Don't spare us. For God's sake cover up those repulsive eggs, Tony! Murgatroyd must be mad. Where's the ham?”
“We finished it yesterday. Do sit down, Superintendent! This is Miss Rivers, by the way. You're looking rather grim, Giles. Is anything the matter?”
“I'm afraid something very serious, Tony. Roger is dead - shot.”
There was a moment's frozen silence. Then Antonia gasped out: “Gosh!”
Kenneth, who had stayed his coffee-cup half-way to his mouth, blinked again and drank with a good deal of deliberation. Then he set the cup down in the saucer, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and said coolly: “If true, slightly redundant. Is it true, by any chance?”
“Perfectly true, Mr Vereker,” said Hannasyde, watching him.
It struck Giles, also watching, that Kenneth's control over his features was almost too perfect. There was a suggestion of rigidity about his mouth, a curiously blank look in his eyes. They travelled from Giles's face to Hannasyde's. Then Kenneth picked up his cup and saucer, and handed it to Antonia. “More coffee, please,” he said. “How my fortunes do fluctuate!”
“You don't seem to be greatly surprised, Mr Vereker.”