“Yes,” said Leslie Rivers again. “He's with Violet. I suppose it's useless for me to say anything, but if Kenneth isn't careful he'll land himself in jug. I should think the police are bound to think he murdered your half-brother.”
“No, they won't. They think I did. Kenneth wasn't there.”
“He hasn't got an alibi,” stated Leslie in her matter-of-fact way. “He doesn't seem to see how with him inheriting all that money, and being in debt, and loathing Arnold, things are bound to point his way.”
“I bet he didn't do it, all the same,” replied Antonia.
“The point is you may find it hard to prove he didn't.”
“I wonder if he could have?” Antonia said thoughtfully.
Murgatroyd let the rolling-pin fall with a clatter. “I never did in all my born days! Whatever will you say next, Miss Tony? Your own brother too, as wouldn't hurt a fly.”
“If you had a fly-swotting competition, he'd win it,” Antonia replied sensibly. “I'm not saying he did kill Arnold; I only wondered. I wouldn't put it above him, would you, Leslie?”
“I don't know. He's a weird creature. Yes, of course I would. What rot you are talking, Tony! I'm going.”
Five minutes later Antonia wandered into the studio and nodded curtly to the girl in the big arm-chair. “Hullo! Come to celebrate?”