“Why no, she didn’t know it. We didn’t mention Miss Saunders at all.”
“But she was—she had been—a frequent subject of conversation between you?”
His eyes, looking at Rawson, seemed to harden and grow more fixed:
“We had talked of her—naturally being in the same company.”
“Your wife and Miss Saunders were not very friendly?”
A fierce light rose in the fixed eyes, the nostrils widened.
“What are you getting at, Mr. Rawson?”
“Our business, Mr. Stokes. We’re here to investigate a murder and we can’t spare people’s feelings or shut our eyes to disagreeable facts.”
“Have I shown any signs of expecting that? I’ve put myself at your disposal, my wife has. We’re ready to give you any help we can, but I’m not ready to back up any damned suspicions that have been put into your mind.”
“We’re not asking you to,” said Rawson. “But we know what was going on here before the shooting.”