" No, sir," said the Sergeant doubtfully.
"So quickly over," Harding said.
"Quickly over? That I will say it was not, sir! I wouldn't like to speak ill of the dead, but Sir Arthur was a fair terror. Quite a byword, you might say."
The door opened; Fay came in, and stood for moment looking across the room at Harding. In a black dress she had a pathetically frail appearance. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, her lips rather bloodless.
"Lady Billington-Smith?" Harding said. "Will come and sit down?" He spoke in a reassuring way, quite unexpected by one who had had experience so far only of Superintendent Lupton's methods.
"Thank you," Fay said in a low voice, and took the chair Mrs. Twining had occupied. "I understand you want to ask me some questions. I — made a statement to the Superintendent yesterday. I don't know — if there is anything more you want to ask me."
"I'm sorry, Lady Billington-Smith, but I'm afraid I must ask you certain questions — some of them perhaps rather distressing to you," Harding said. "Will you try and answer them quite frankly — and believe I wouldn't put them to you unless I considered it necessary?"
Her eyes fluttered to his face again, surprised and grateful. "Yes, of course. I quite understand."
He sat down. "I want to know first, Lady Billington-Smith: were you upon good terms with your husband at the time of his death?"
The suddenness of the question startled her. "What do you mean?" she faltered.