"No, he doesn't," interposed Timothy. "All he knows is what Thrimby says you said, so you give him your version! I'll leave the room, if you like!"
"It isn't that! Only you're telling me to put a rope round my own neck!"
"God bless the girl!" ejaculated Timothy. "After that crack, my love, don't waste a moment in disclosing to the Chief Inspector exactly what you did say! It can't possibly be as damaging as the ideas you've put into his head!"
"I said I was going to marry you, and I'd go to any lengths to do it, or something like that! I don't really remember my precise words, because I was in a rage. I said I wouldn't let her stop me. I think I said there wasn't much I wouldn't do if she tried to interfere. But I didn't mean I'd kill her!"
"No?" said Hemingway. "Suppose you were to tell me just what it was that you did mean, Miss Birtley?"
She appeared a trifle discomposed. "Nothing! One says silly things like that - not thinking!"
"Think now!" recommended Hemingway. "It might be important. You uttered a threat: you've admitted that. If you didn't mean violence, what did you mean? What harm could you do Mrs. Haddington?"
Timothy, who had been watching him, turned his head. "I should answer this one," he said. "Did you know something she didn't want disclosed?"
"I - I had certain suspicions, but - Look here, I wasn't serious! I said it to frighten her! I wouldn't really blackmail even Mrs. Haddington!"
"What were your suspicions, Miss Birtley?"