"He ought to know, if anyone does."
"The answer being that no one does. Sorry you've been let in for this."
"Don't waste any pity on me: I've got an unbreakable alibi," she replied lightly. "Far be it from me to cast any aspersions on your word, Stephen, but there is one appeal I should like to address to you in the name of us all."
He looked at her with a suddenly lowering expression on his brow. "Well?"
"If you purloined Maud's book, do for God's sake give it back to her!"
He gave a laugh, but it seemed to her that it was perfunctory. "I haven't got her book."
"Don't quibble!" said Mathilda severely.
"I'm sick of the damned book!" he snapped. "I've already told you once that I don't know where it is!"
He got up, as he spoke, and walked away to the other end of the room. She saw that his nerves were on edge, and was sorry that she had teased him. Sturry came in with a tray of drinks, and set it down on a side-table. Maud asked him if he had seen the book she was reading. Sturry said in a very despising way that he had not noticed it, but would make enquiries.
"It is very unfortunate," stated Maud. "I wish I could remember where I laid it down. I always read for twenty minutes in bed before I put the light out. It is very calming to the mind. I had just got to the part about Rudolph. The one who committed suicide."