Hemingway's eyes travelled to Inspector Grant's face. The Inspector rose, and with a murmured excuse, walked out of the room. Following the intuition which he so often told his exasperated fellows never failed him, Hemingway said: "We don't always take down what is said, and use it as evidence, my lady: particularly when we're working on a case like this, which might turn out to be a bit delicate. Now, I don't want to start something which, properly speaking, is none of my business; and I don't at all want to go asking Mr. Poulton a whole lot of questions which might stir up trouble."
"My husband! What's it got to do with him?" she said sharply. "What questions? Is it so extraordinary that I should be friendly with Lilias Haddington?"
"Well, yes, my lady, I think it is!" replied Hemingway frankly. "I thought so at the outset. I don't move in High Society myself, but in my job one gets to learn a few what-you-might-call elementary facts. Why did you introduce Mrs. Haddington to your friends, and what was the tie-up between you, and her, and Seaton-Carew?"
She sat up jerkily from the sofa, and moved away to the window. "Absurd!"
"Was it Mrs. Haddington who introduced Seaton-Carew to you, my lady?"
"No!"
"Other way around?" suggested Hemingway.
She put up a hand to her brow, pressing it. "No. How can this help you? Do you mean to ask my husband these - foolish questions?"
"Not if I can help it. If ever there's any suspicion of blackmail, we're as discreet as we know how to be."
She stared at him over her shoulder. "You're very acute! Who told you this?"