"Yes, sure," said Guest amiably.
"That's settled them anyway," remarked Dinah, leadng her sister into the house. "Come on, ducky, you've got to try on the raiment I've brought home on approval."
Twenty minutes later, Francis Billington-Smith walked through the drawing-room and stood for a moment framed by the window, somewhat cynically observing the card-players. "What a touching sight!" he drawled. "The bereaved household! Little Geoffrey, too just bearing up, I see."
Camilla jumped, and looked over her shoulder. "Oh, Captain Billington-Smith, how you startled me!"
"Oh, so you've arrived, have you?" said Geoffrey. "I suppose I can play Bridge if I want to without asking your permission? Two down, vulnerable. That's two hundred and fifty to them above. What on earth you put me up for, Stephen, I can't imagine. Cut, please, Camilla."
Camilla's attention, however, was all for Francis, to whom she was already pouring out a garbled version of Sir Arthur's murder and a description of her own psychological reactions to it.
Francis broke in on this. "So interesting!" he said politely. "But as I don't know yet when my uncle was murdered or where, or by whom, these observations are somewhat lost on me. Would somebody not Geoffrey, I think — be kind enough to enlighten me?"
"Your uncle was stabbed in his study between twelve and one o'clock on Monday morning," stated Guest. "We don't know by whom."
"Stabbed?" Francis repeated.
"Yes, with the Chinese dagger he used as a paper knife," said Guest unemotionally.