"We shall at least be spared your rollicking festivities," Stephen said.
The Inspector glanced at him rather narrowly. That was a queer way to speak of his uncle's murder, he thought. It didn't do to set too much store by what people said in moments of shock, but if he were asked he would be bound to admit that he hadn't taken a fancy to young Herriard, not by a long chalk.
Joseph caught his glance, and rushed to Stephen's support. "My nephew's very much upset," he said. "It's been a dreadful blow - and I'm afraid the modern youth makes a point of hiding its feelings under a mask of flippancy."
Stephen grimaced, but allowed this explanation to pass without comment. He dived a hand into his pocket for his pipe and his tobacco-pouch, and began to fill the pipe, while Joseph told the Inspector about the other guests.
Joseph had a kind word for everybody. Roydon was a most promising playwright, a great friend of his niece. The niece? Ah yes! this young man's sister: an actress, and quite her poor dead uncle's favourite. Then there was Miss Dean - a smile towards Stephen - his nephew's fiancee. He might say that this party had really been arranged on her account. She had never stayed with them before, and they had so much wanted to get to know her. Miss Clare, too! a cousin, quite a persona grata in the house. Remained only Edgar Mottisfont, Nathaniel's partner, and close friend for many years. There were, of course, the servants, but he was quite sure none of them could have had anything to do with the murder.
This was unpromising stuff, but the Inspector did not allow himself to be unduly cast-down. He wanted to know whether there had been any quarrel between the deceased and any of his guests.
"Oh no, no! Not what I should call a quarrel!" Joseph said quickly. "I'm afraid all we Herriards are inclined to be testy, but there has been nothing of a serious nature. Nothing - nothing to warrant this dreadful thing!"
"But there has been quarrelling, sir?"
Just a few family tiffs! What I call the give and take of family life. My brother was a sufferer from lumbago, and you know what that does to a man's temper, Inspector. There may have been a little Grossness here and there, but we knew that Uncle Nat's bark was worse than his bite, didn't we, Stephen?"
Not even his own predicament, which he must have known to be dangerous, could induce Stephen to join forces with Joseph. He said "Did we?" in a non-committal tone which did much to destroy the good impression Joseph was making.