“Don't forget me, and the Vicar's wife!” interrupted Gavin.
“I don't mind adding you to the list, but I won't have the Vicar's wife. She can't have had anything to do with it, and only confuses the issue.”
“What about the Vicar himself?” asked Abby, her chin propped on her clasped hands. “Where was he?”
“Went off to visit the sick, didn't he? Anyway, he's out of the running too.”
“So are Major Midgeholme, and Mr. Drybeck,” Abby pointed out. “We ran them home.”
“On the contrary! I set the Major down at the cross-road, because he told me to. I don't know what he did when I drove on. Not that I think he's a likely candidate for the list, but we must stick to the facts. I then set old Drybeck down outside his house. We left him waving goodbye to us: we didn't actually see him enter his house, and for anything we know, he didn't.”
“No, that's true,” agreed Abby, her eyes widening. “And he really is a likely candidate! Gosh!”
“Now, that's quite enough!” Miss Patterdale interposed. “Talk like that can lead to trouble.”
“That's all right, Aunt Miriam,” said Charles. “I bet he isn't the only one who might have done it.”
“Well, just you remember that!” she admonished him. “It's all very well to talk like that about people like poor old Thaddeus Drybeck, but you wouldn't think it nearly so amusing if someone were to do the same about your father, for instance.”