The house-party was in the dining-room, where Stephen, unmoved by the late gruesome events, was eating his interrupted dinner. Everyone else had reached the coffee stage, and, with the exception of Maud, was plying him with eager questions. They all turned, as Joseph came in, and Paula asked if the police had finished.
"Alas, my poor child, I'm afraid it will be a long time before they do that!" said Joseph, with a heavy sigh. "They have only just begun. Willoughby, the Inspector wants to see you. He is in the morning-room."
Roydon at once flushed, and his voice jumped up an octave. "What on earth does he want to see me about? I can't tell him anything!"
"No, that's what I assured him. I am afraid he is a stupid sort of a man. It came out that you had been reading your play to us - dear me, it seems already as though that was in another life!"
"Did you tell him so?" said Stephen, looking up under his brows.
Joseph's absurdly cherubic countenance set into worried lines. "Well, yes, but I never dreamed he'd take me up as he did!"
Paula's eyes stabbed him. "Did you tell him that Willoughby wanted Uncle Nat's backing?"
"Of course I didn't! I didn't say a word about that. It's quite irrelevant, and I don't think there's the least need to mention it."
Roydon stubbed out his cigarette, and got up. "I suppose I'd better go along and see the man," he said. "Not that I can throw the least light on the affair, but that's by the way!"
He went out, and Stephen, watching him critically, said to his sister: "Are you vitally concerned in your boy-friend's fate? With any luck, I should say he'll incriminate himself good and proper."