"But you're not sure, sir?"
"No, not entirely. Let us say that I didn't notice anyone. But as I was driving, and not staring about me, that isn't very surprising."
The Inspector accepted, this, and announced that he had, at the moment, no further questions to put to him.
"Then I'll go back to Palings," said Hugh.
The Inspector put his notebook into his pocket. "I shall be calling there myself, sir," he said. "I'll run you there."
It was plain that he did not want Hugh to reach Palings before himself, so Hugh made no demur, but meekly accompanied him to the police-car waiting in the drive. After conferring briefly with the Sergeant who had accompanied him, the Inspector got into the car beside Hugh, and they drove off.
The scene that awaited them at Palings was in the best traditions of the place. Ermyntrude, in a pink satin wrapper lavishly edged with ostrich feather trimming, was prostrate upon the couch in the hall, with a bottle of smelling-salts clasped in one plump hand, and a pink georgette handkerchief in the other. A glass and decanter on a low table beside her bore evidence that she had had to be revived with brandy. Vicky was not present, but Mary, looking rather white, was standing at the head of the couch, saturating a handkerchief with eau-de Cologne. She glanced up quickly as Hugh walked in through the open front-door, and greeted him with a forced smile. "Thank goodness you're back! Vicky told us is it true?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it is," Hugh replied. "Inspector Cook's here. Can he come in?"
"Police!" moaned Ermyntrude. "Oh, if my poor first husband were alive to see this day!"
The Inspector, pausing discreetly on the threshold, cast a somewhat awed look at the widow. Ermyntrude seemed to be beyond human aid, but Mary stepped forward, saying: "Yes, of course. Good afternoon, Inspector. This - this is an awful shock. I —- I hardly know what… Please come in! We're rather upset, and Mrs. Carter… But, of course, you must come in!"