“God knows! I shouldn't be surprised. He wouldn't dare do so to my face, of course.”
“Well, you may be right,” said Hemingway, “but I'm bound to say that when I met Mr. Plenmeller he was sitting with Major Midgeholme, and he didn't make any bones about telling me I should soon discover what the Major's motive was for having shot Mr. Warrenby.”
Lindale stared at him. “Poisonous fellow! He knows better than to try that sort of thing on with me.”
“Do you know of any reason why he should have wanted Mr. Warrenby out of the way, sir?”
“No. Nor am I saying that I think he's your man. But I fail to see why he should have the sole right to fling mud about! What's he doing it for? I call it damned malicious—particularly if it's true that he's made that unfortunate girl, Mavis Warrenby, one of his targets. I shouldn't have said anything if it hadn't been for his behaviour, but if that's his line, all right, then, I'd like to know first why he had it in for Warrenby more than anyone else, and then why he made an excuse to leave that party on Saturday after tea!”
“Did he, sir?” said Hemingway. “I thought he left when you and Mr. Ainstable did, not to mention Miss Dearham and Mr. Drybeck?”
“Finally, yes. Before that, he made a futile excuse to go home and fetch something the Squire wanted.”
“What would that have been, sir?”
“Some correspondence to do with the appointment of a new solicitor to the River Board. The Squire wanted me to take a look at it, but any time would have done!”
“This River Board does keep cropping up,” remarked Hemingway. “Were you one of the Riparian Owners that were anxious to keep Warrenby out of the job?”