Hugh laughed. "Was, not is. Are you interested in the Drama?"
"I am, but I never had a bit of use for Family Charades. What was it all about, that's what I'd like to know?"
"Miss Fanshawe," said Hugh carefully, "does not wish her mother to marry Prince Varasashvili."
"Well, I'm bound to say she shows sense," remarked the Inspector. "All the same, you'd think the girl could think of some way of getting rid of him without putting on a three-reel drama, wouldn't you? The nerve of her dragging me into her antics! Not but what it was a highly talented performance. She's got more brain than I gave her credit for."
At this moment, Vicky came out of the house. "Oh, good, you haven't gone!" she said, addressing Hugh. "It's suddenly dawned on me that it's very nearly eight o'clock. You'd better stay to dinner, because you'll be frightfully late if you go back to the Manor. Besides, we may as well think out a good plan of campaign while we have the chance." She noticed the Inspector, half-hidden in the shadows beyond the shaft of light coming through the open door. "Oh, you weren't meant to hear that! I dare say it doesn't actually matter, but I do rather feel that it's time you went home."
"Thanks to you, miss, I'm feeling very much the same myself. I suppose you didn't happen to think when you were carrying on like that, that there might be two ways of looking at that big act of yours?"
"There aren't two ways of looking at the Prince," said Vicky positively. "Anyone can see that he's utterly apocryphal, besides being a complete adder."
"We won't go into that," said the Inspector. "What I meant was, that you were so anxious to get me to say I'd a case against you to suit your own ends, that perhaps you didn't stop to think whether I might really have a case against you?"
"That's nonsense!" Hugh said quickly.
The Inspector looked at him. "Oh, is it? What makes you so sure of that, sir?"