"There's absolutely no money in chicken-farming unless you do it on a colossal scale," said the wordly-wise Miss Fawcett. "I know several people who tried it, and they all went bust."
"Then it'll have to be pigs," said Harding philosophically.
"Awfully mucky," objected Dinah.
"Chickens on a colossal scale then."
She shook her head. "You'd have to sink a frightful lot of capital in it," she said seriously.
"Never mind, I've come into quite a pleasant legacy, most unexpectedly."
"Well, I shouldn't blue it on fowls," said Dinah.
They were still discussing the disposal of Inspector Harding's legacy when the car swept up the Grange drive, and might, Dinah reflected, as she alighted at the front door, have known one another for years. "Now I suppose you want to get on with this impressive ceremony of opening the safe," she remarked. "I don't know if Mr. Tremlowe knows the combination, but if he doesn't he's about the only person in the house doesn't."
Harding looked quickly down at her. "Is that really so?"
"Yes, of course. It's only a potty affair," Dinah answered. "I've seen Arthur work it myself."