“When, in his opinion, did death occur?” Giles asked.
The Superintendent glanced down at the typewritten report. “Always a rather difficult question,” he said. “Approximately between 10.0 p.m. and 2.0 a.m.”
“Thanks. Was anything found in the flat?”
“Nothing useful. A slight trace of oil on the handle of the sitting-room door, and a fingerprint - Miss Vereker's on the cartridge-case.”
“It was her gun, then?”
“Yes. She was here only half an hour ago” - he smiled faintly- “displaying the greatest interest in the business of taking an impression of her own hand.”
“That I can imagine. And the position of the cartridge case?”
“You win over that too.” He paused, and looked squarely at Giles. “You may as well know it now as later, Mr Carrington: the evidence of the other members of that party at the Albert Hall does not bear out the story told me by Miss Rivers and Mr Vereker. As a matter of fact, I was on the point of going to the studio when you rang.”
Giles nodded. “I see. I'll come along, if you don't mind.”
“No, I don't mind,” said Hannasyde. “I've no power to stop you if I did. It'll probably save time if you come, as I imagine Mr Vereker would be quite likely to refuse to talk until he'd consulted you - if only to annoy.”