"My good aunt, rid your mind of this obsession!" he said wearily. "Why should I have burnt it?"
Joseph told me that you said -"
Joseph told you!" he exclaimed, his brow growing thunderous. "I've no doubt! You will probably find that he burned the book himself for the pleasure of casting a fresh aspersion on to me!"
Maud seemed quite unresentful of this accusation. She said mildly: "I'm sure I don't know why he should do that, Stephen."
He gave a short laugh, and strode away in the direction of the billiard-room.
The Inspector watched him go, a thoughtful look in his eyes. As Maud continued her progress towards the stairs, he turned to look at her, saying: "Very unfortunate the way young Mr. Herriard seems to have his knife into your husband, madam. And his uncle so fond of him!"
But Maud was not to be drawn into discussion. She met the Inspector's look with a blank stare, and said in her flattest voice: "Yes."
He made no further effort to detain her, but went to find his Sergeant. "They were Joseph's finger-prints," he informed this worthy.
The Sergeant's lips formed a soundless whistle. "That does look fishy, sir," he admitted. "Very fishy indeed. But unless you can break down his alibi -"
"Forget it!" said Hemingway. "What have I missed? That's what I want to know."