“Very little is known, Mr Carrington. We have not yet traced his car. That may conceivably tell a tale. Whoever it was murdered your cousin presumably drove away in the car.”
“Neat,” approved Giles.
The Superintendent smiled faintly. “You share Miss Vereker's dislike of the man?”
“More or less. And I have one of those cast-iron alibis which I understand render one instantly suspect. I was playing bridge in my father's house on Wimbledon Common.”
The Superintendent nodded. “One more question, Mr Carrington. Can you tell me anything about this man” - he consulted his notebook - “Mesurier?”
“Beyond the fact that he is the Chief Accountant in my cousin's firm, nothing, I'm afraid. I am barely acquainted with him.”
“I see. I don't think I need keep you any longer now. You'll be wanting to take Miss Vereker away. Shall we say ten o'clock in Eaton Place tomorrow?”
“Yes, certainly. You'd better have my card, by the way. I should be very grateful if you would let me know what happens.”
He held out his hand, the Superintendent grasped it for a moment, and opened the door for him to pass out.
Antonia was engaged in powdering her face when Giles rejoined her.