"Yes, I've already told the Inspector so."
"And what's more hadn't Wally lent him a hundred pounds, which he hadn't paid back?"
"I don't know how much it was, but certainly Wally did '
"Well, I do know, because I've been through the counterfoils of Wally's old cheque-books," said Ermyntrude. "It's as plain as a pikestaff he walked off with that rifle. I always said he was at the bottom of it!"
"Yes, I know," said Mary patiently, "but you're forgetting that Mr. White can't possibly have had anything to do with it, Aunt Ermy."
"Oh, don't talk to me!" said Ermyntrude, brushing this trifling objection aside. "If he didn't actually do it himself, I dare say he got Alan to. Yes, and now I come to think of it, what was Alan doing when Wally was shot? All we've been told is that he was out. Out where, that's what I should like to know?"
"But, Aunt, why on earth should Alan shoot Wally? It isn't even as though he's on good terms with his father!"
"I'm sure I don't know, but I've always hated those Whites, and don't anyone tell me that my instinct's wrong, because a woman's instinct never lies!"
She threw a challenging glance at the Inspector, who replied promptly that he wouldn't dream of telling her anything of the sort. "At the same time," he added, "if the story your daughter's got hold of is true, madam, I'm bound to say Mr. White should be the last person in the world to want Mr. Carter dead."
"What's this about my daughter?" demanded Ermyntrude. "Have you been persecuting her again with your wicked, false suspicions?"