“You’d better do the talking,” Ardsley advised, as they got out of the car and approached the door of the house. Wendover nodded in agreement and rang the bell. When the maid appeared he asked if Ernest Shandon was disengaged. The maid seemed doubtful.
“He’s in the study, sir, and he left word that he wasn’t to be disturbed.”
Wendover thought of asking for the secretary; but it struck him that since they had come to commandeer the drug, it would be best to see one of the family. After all, it was private property, even if it was dangerous stuff.
“Is Mr. Hawkhurst at home?”
The maid showed them into a room and asked them to wait until she could find him.
“If he isn’t, then ask Miss Hawkhurst to see us for a moment if she can,” Wendover directed.
In a few moments, Arthur Hawkhurst entered the room, looking rather surprised when he saw who his two visitors were.
“Fairly travelling round and seeing the country, aren’t you, Wendover? Morbid curiosity, I think, haunting the scene of crime like this.”
He nodded to Ardsley. Quite obviously the double murder had not affected his spirits to any extent. Wendover was not much surprised. The boy had never been a favourite with either of his uncles; and though he seemed lacking in decent respect for the victims, Wendover put it down to Arthur’s slightly unbalanced mentality.
“I’d have preferred a shade less cheeriness, I must say,” he thought to himself, “but I suppose it would have been mere hypocrisy in his case, and one must make some allowance for his brain being a bit abnormal just now.”