Kenneth sat up. “Look here, whose side are you on?”
Giles Carrington looked up quickly. Kenneth grinned. “No, I didn't mean that exactly, but you've got to act for us.”
“That is what I'm trying to do,” answered Giles.
“Lots of snags in the way,” murmured Kenneth, lying down again. “Tony's pitchforked herself hang into the middle of it, and I don't think I can prove an alibi. All the same,” he added, tilting his head back to watch the fluttering of a moth against the skylight, “they'll find it hard to fasten the murder on to me. For one thing, I haven't got a knife, and never had a knife; and for another, no one would ever believe I could do a job as neatly as this one, without leaving any trace behind. Also, I haven't had any very recent quarrel with -” He jerked himself upright again. “Damn! What a fool I was! I wrote and asked him for some cash, and he refused. I'll lay any odds you like he's kept my letter and a copy of his answer.”
“Oh, Kenneth, don't talk such rubbish!” Violet begged. “Of course they don't think you did it!”
“They probably will, but they'll find it devilish hard to prove,” said Kenneth. “What do you think, Giles?”
“If you'd like to call at my office tomorrow at twelve, I'll tell you,” replied Giles, finishing his drink.
Violet got up, smoothing her skirt. “Of course you can't talk with Mr Mesurier and me here,” she said. “Anyway, it's time I went home. I've got a long day tomorrow. Kenneth, promise me you'll stop being silly, and tell Mr Carrington everything. You know perfectly well you didn't do it, and anyone would think you had, from the way you go on.”
“Yes, you all three ought to talk it over,” agreed Mesurier. “Can I see you home, Miss Williams?”
Violet accepted this offer with one of her demure smiles, and in spite of Kenneth's loud and indignant protests the pair insisted on taking their leave. Murgatroyd came in to clear away the glasses when they had gone, and interrupted Kenneth, who was cursing his cousin for breaking up the party, by saying: