“You didn't see anyone? No one on the common, for instance?”
“No, I'm sure I didn't. Of course, I wasn't looking particularly, but I should have been bound to have noticed if there had been anyone.”
“You didn't look particularly?” repeated the Sergeant. “The shot was fired from close enough to give you a fright, wasn't it, miss?”
“Yes, but, you see, I didn't know that. I'm afraid I'm silly about guns. I can't bear sudden bangs. I just thought it couldn't have been as close as it seemed.”
The Sergeant made a careful note in his book, but offered no comment on this explanation. After a minute, he said: “Do you know of any person, miss, who had a grudge against your uncle?”
“Oh, no!” she replied earnestly.
“You know of no quarrel with any person?” She shook her head. “To your knowledge, he had no enemies?”
“Oh, I'm sure he hadn't!”
There was little more to be elicited from her; and after a few further questions the Sergeant took his leave, telling her that she would be advised of the date of the inquest.
The prospect of having to give evidence at an inquest seemed to affect Miss Warrenby almost as poignantly as its cause, and it was several minutes before she could be reconciled to it. She reiterated her conviction that her uncle would have strongly disliked it, and was only partly soothed by an assurance from Miss Patterdale that neither the post-mortem examination nor the inquest would preclude her from burying her uncle with all the ceremonial she seemed to consider was his due. When Charles conveyed his mother's message to her, her eyes filled with grateful tears, and she begged him to thank Mrs. Haswell very, very much for her kindness, and to say how deeply touched she was by it. But she was quite sure Uncle Sampson would have wished her to remain at Fox House.