“Murder? You mean, . . . you mean—that Inquest—are you suggesting?” . . .
Sir Leward nodded.
“There are pointers that way, I’m afraid, Sir Hunter. Would you think him capable of that?”
“Lessingham! Murder! Good God! Good God!”
The General was plainly knocked off his usual balance. As Marradine did not really need an answer, he did not press for it.
“Now I want to ask you some questions about your Company’s business,” he said. “You do a certain amount in the way of loans, don’t you?” Sir Hunter nodded. “Who advises you on that?”
“We have no advisers; we—the Board, that is—settle that for ourselves. We all have a certain amount of experience—except, of course, Resston, who never turns up—we put our heads together.” He paused for a moment, frowning, as if in thought. “As a matter of fact, now I come to think of it, Lessingham generally has more to say on the subject than Wraile or I—looks on it as his pigeon, rather, I think.”
“Not long ago you advanced a large sum—£100,000—to the Ethiopian and General Development Company?”
The Chairman nodded.
“On what security?”