“Agatha Farleigh, here, whom Sergeant Exton is going to marry, lays the death of the two Farleigh children at my door. And now my house is burnt.”
She betrayed no excitement, no animosity. Slowly she held up the match-box.
“Is this yours?”
John stared at it.
Lady Selina continued impassively:
“It was picked up near the garage. An hour ago it was in your possession.”
“It was,” John admitted. “But I haven’t been near the garage.”
Goodrich said impatiently:
“All this is irregular. At the same time, matters having gone so far, I will take it upon myself to ask you a question, sergeant: Will you tell us exactly where you happened to be when the fire broke out?”
“I happened to be near the house.”