“That's enough from you, Master Kenneth. You listen to what Mr Giles has to say, and keep a still tongue in your head. And if you want anything I'll be in the kitchen.”
She went out, and they heard her go into the kitchen and shut the door. Kenneth sat down again on the divan, and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I'm sick of this murder already,” he said. “They'll never find out who did it, so why worry?”
Giles took out his pipe, and began to fill it. “Get this into your head,” he said. “If the police don't discover any clue to the identity of the murderer your position's going to be serious.”
Kenneth looked up. “Why? I thought Tony was the chief suspect.”
“What do you suppose is the first thing the police will look for?” Giles said. “Motive. Tony's motive is merely one of revenge, of spite, or whatever you like to call it. Your motive is a good deal stronger. You're hard up, you tried to get money out of Arnold, and by his death you inherit a large fortune.”
“Yes, but I didn't think of that for quite some time after Tony had told me Arnold was dead. Did I, Tony?”
“I doubt whether that would impress a jury,” said Giles. “What were you doing last night?”
“I went to look Violet up.”
“At what time?”
“Not sure. Half-past eightish. Murgatroyd was out, and Tony seemed to have waltzed off for the night, so I wandered out on my own.”