"And dropped it on the floor, sir?"
"Pushed it under the chair, apparently," said Stephen.
"Or is that what I'm supposed to have done, Inspector?" "I wouldn't say that," answered the Inspector. "It might have fallen off the chair - if someone sitting there thought he'd put it in his pocket, but happened to drop it into the chair instead, and then got up. Someone a bit careless, maybe."
"I object to that!" Joseph interrupted. "That's deliberately twisting a perfectly innocent remark of mine to mean something I never intended, and which is absurd - quite absurd!"
"Shut up!" said Stephen. "I admit it's my case; I accept your statement that it was found in my uncle's room. So what, Inspector?"
"You'd better consider your position, sir."
Mathilda, who had preserved a somewhat ominous silence throughout this interchange, moved forward. "Quite finished?" she enquired. "Because if so I'll speak my little piece. I saw Mr. Stephen Herriard give his cigarette-case to Miss Dean before ever he left the drawing-room after tea."
Stephen laughed. Valerie said furiously: "You shan't put it on to me! I never had his beastly case! I left it on the table! I don't know what became of it! He probably picked it up before he went out of the room. You're the filthiest, meanest beast I ever met, Mathilda Clare!"
"And you, my little pet," said Mathilda, with great cordiality, "are a bitch!"