"I have not had your advantages. I have not spent a lifetime learning to bury my head in the sand," said Stephen brutally.
Mathilda found her voice. "What makes you think that, Stephen? How can the police know who murdered Nat until they discover how anyone contrived to get into that room?
"You'd better ask them," he replied. "I shall be hanged by my own cigarette-case and Uncle Nat's will. Jolly, isn't it?"
"I will not believe it!" Joseph said. "The- police aren't such fools! It isn't possible that they could arrest you on such slender evidence!"
"Do you call a hundred and sixty thousand pounds or so slender evidence?" demanded Stephen. "I should call it a pretty strong motive myself."
"You knew nothing of that! Over and over again I've told them so!"
"Yes, my dear uncle, and if you had not previously told Valerie that I was the heir I daresay the Inspector might listen to you. As it is, I have just sustained a cross examination which leaves me with the conviction that not one word I said was believed."
"But you are still at large," Mathilda pointed out.
"Being given rope to hang myself, no doubt."
"Don't be absurd!" she said sharply. "I don't believe any of this! They'll have to find out how Nat was murdered behind locked doors before they can arrest you!"