“I assume you have nothing to conceal,” Giles said a little sharply.
She smiled. “Nice Giles. Do you loathe being dragged into our murky affairs?”
“I can think of things I like better. You'd better come along to the Chief Constable's office and apologise for being such a nuisance.”
“And answer a lot of questions?” she asked doubtfully. “Yes, answer anything you can, but try not to say a lot of unnecessary things.”
She looked rather nervous. “Well, you'd better frown at me if I do. I wish you could make a statement for me.”
“So do I, but I can't,” said Giles, getting up, and opening the door. “I'll find out if the Chief Constable is disengaged. You stay where you are.”
He was gone for several minutes, and when he returned it was with the Superintendent and a Constable. Antonia looked at the Constable with deep misgiving. Her cousin smiled reassuringly and said, “This is Superintendent Hannasyde, Tony, from Scotland Yard.”
“How — how grim!” said Antonia in a small voice. “It's particularly bitter because I've always thought how much I should hate to be mixed up in a murder case, on account of having everything you say turned round till you find you've said something quite different.”
The Superintendent bent to pat Bill. “I won't do that,” he promised. “I only want you to tell me just how you came to visit your brother last night, and what you did.”
Antonia drew in her breath. “He was not my brother,” she said. “I'm sick to death of correcting that mistake. He was nothing more than half!”