"To meet anyone was the last thing I wanted!" said Geoffrey bitterly.
"Try to remember, Mr. Billington-Smith. I don't know this countryside, but you have described what sounds to me a very lonely walk."
"Of course it was! I didn't want to run into people. I wanted to be alone!"
"Are you well known here?" Harding asked. "If someone did happen to see you during the course of your walk, would they be likely to recognise you?"
"I don't know. I dare say. It depends." Geoffrey looked defiantly across the table. "I see what you're driving at, but if you think —"
"I am not driving at anything," Harding said gravely, "But I want you, in your own interests, to try and remember whether you did not meet someone."
"I tell you I don't know! My mind was in an absolute turmoil. I'm pretty sure I didn't actually meet anyone, hut how on earth can I know whether anybody saw me or not?"
"Very well, Mr. Billington-Smith," Harding answered. "That is all I want to ask you at present. Will you ask Mr. Halliday to come here, please?"
Geoffrey got up jerkily. "Look here, Inspector!" he burst out. "This is all jolly fine, but if you've marked me down as a suspect simply because I can't bring a lot of witnesses forward to prove I'm speaking the truth — well, I call it a bit thick! There are heaps of people with just as much reason for wanting to kill Father as I had — and if you want to know there's one person in particular with a damned sight more reason — and to single me out —'
Harding glanced up from his notebook. "Mr. Billington-Smith: really, this is not leading us anywhere. Will you send Mr. Halliday in to me, please?"