“No, no!” Charles replied, laughing. “I'm not going to do your job for you! Or get myself sued for uttering slanders!”
“Perhaps you're right,” agreed Hemingway.
“I wish I could ginger Mavis up to sue Mr. Drybeck!” said Abby, with feeling.
“Good lord, you haven't told her he thinks she did it, have you?” exclaimed Charles.
“ I didn't tell her, but someone did. She said she would rather not talk about it, and one had to make allowances, and she was sure he didn't mean to hurt her feelings.”
“That girl is really a saint!” declared Mrs. Midgeholme. “She may be exasperating, but you have to admit that she's an example to us all!”
The Chief Inspector was amused to perceive, from their expressions, that the example set by Miss Warrenby was not one which either Charles or Abby meant to follow. He took his leave of the party, and went away with Harbottle to where the car awaited them.
“What do you suppose they were doing up at Fox House?” said Abby, watching the two detectives turn the corner into the main road.
“Probably having another look at the terrain,” said Charles.
“I only hope they haven't been pumping Gladys,” said Mrs. Midgeholme worriedly. “You know what servants are! She'd be bound to make the most of every little unpleasantness there had ever been in the house, and what with that, on top of Thaddeus Drybeck's really wicked attempt to throw suspicion on poor Mavis, I'm very much afraid the police may be thoroughly misled. Well! I've done my best, and I can't do more! Come along, Ulysses! Home to Father!”