"No, upstairs. That was one time I didn't strike on the box, wasn't it?"
"Did you think you were going to?"
"Well, I thought there was just a chance. Did Robert ring up to condole?"
"He rang up to know if it was true. He wanted to come round, but I stopped him."
Vicky lit a cigarette, and flicked the match into the hearth. "Oh, I think you were frightfully right! I shouldn't be at all taken aback if we discovered he did it, would you?"
"Don't!" implored Mary. "Yes, of course I should. It isn't possible!"
"Darling, I'm simply dripping with sympathy for you, but don't suddenly be a dewy innocent, because I don't feel I can bear it. If Percy didn't do it, Alexis or Robert must have. There isn't anybody else."
"Vicky, don't say things like that! You don't know: there may have been others we've never heard of. What would you think if Robert or the Prince said it must be you, because you happened to be in the shrubbery at the time?"
Vicky blew a cloud of smoke. "But, Mary, dear pet, how could I possibly? I practically never hit anything when I take a gun out."
"That isn't the impression you generally try to put across," said Mary dryly. "Anyone listening to you would imagine you were a pretty good shot."