"I have no ends," Fay said breathlessly. "If Arthur had sent you the money you wanted it would have been by cheque. He would not have taken it out of the household expenses."
Francis looked her over with bland contempt. "Don't let's beat about the bush, darling," he said. "And dont worry about my feelings either. Are you suggesting that I murdered Uncle for the sake of one hundred and thirty pounds?"
"I didn't say that! But I know he wouldn't have sent the money like that."
Harding moved over to the door, and opened it. "I think, Lady Billington-Smith, that it will be best if I talk to your nephew alone," he said.
Mr. Tremlowe picked up his satchel, and once more removed his spectacles. "Come, my dear lady," he said "The Inspector will do better without us." Fay lingered for a moment, her eyes on Francis. "I'm sorry, Francis. I didn't mean that. But it wasn't Arther who sent you those notes."
"Come on!" said Dinah briefly, and took her out.
Francis lit another cigarette, and flicked the dead match into the grate. He gave a slight laugh. "Poor little Fay!" he remarked.
Harding paid no heed to this, but said abruptly: "This plain envelope that you say the notes were sent in,
Captain Billington-Smith: was it addressed to you in your uncle's handwriting?"
"It was," said Francis.