"I'm Harold White," replied White. "I live here, as you must know perfectly well."
The Inspector paid no attention to this impatient rider.
"And where were you at the time of the occurrence?"
"Up there on the lawn, just outside the house," said White, with a jerk of his head towards the Dower House. "Anyone with you, sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Jones here, and my daughter. We were waiting for Mr. Carter to arrive. He was coming to tea at my place."
The Inspector raised his eyes from his notebook to bestow a look on Jones. Jones seized the opportunity to ask for the return of his coat. The Inspector said: "In just a moment, sir," and directed his gaze towards White once more. "An appointment, sir?"
"Yes, I rang up this morning to ask him if he'd drop in at about five o'clock."
"I see, sir." The Inspector looked meditatively up the slope at the chairs drawn round the deserted tea-table. "Did you happen to see what took place here?"
"No, I didn't, but both my daughter and Mr. Jones were sitting in full view of the bridge, and they saw Carter fall."
"Not me," interpolated Jones. "I wasn't looking. I never thought anything till Miss White screamed, and then I couldn't believe my eyes."