“Do you mean the matron was jealous of them both?”
Reggie shrugged. “It hits you in the eye.”
“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Do you suspect the matron?”
“I suspect the devil,” said Reggie gravely. “Lomas, my child, whoever did that murder cut the woman’s throat and then sat down in her easy chair and watched her die. I call that devilish.” And he told of the blood-stains and the turned cushions.
“Good Gad,” said Lomas once more, “there’s some hate in that.”
“Not a nice murder. Also it stopped the children’s party.”
“You harp on that.” Lomas looked at him curiously. “Are you thinking of the visitors?”
“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder.”
“Here’s the list,” Lomas said, and Reggie came slowly to look. “Sir George and Lady Bean, Lady Chantry, Mrs. Carroway,”—he ran his pencil down—“all well-known, blameless busybodies, full of good works. Nothing doing.”
“Crab Warnham,” said Reggie.