“Mrs. Silverdale? You don't mean to say that anything's happened to her? Good God! I knew the girl quite well. Nobody could have a grudge against her.”
He glanced from one official to the other, as though doubting his ears.
“Wait a bit,” he added, after a moment's pause. “Perhaps I've taken you up wrong. Do you mean Yvonne Silverdale?”
“Yes,” the Inspector confirmed.
Markfield's face showed a struggle between incredulity and belief.
“But that girl hadn't an enemy in the world, man,” he broke out at last. “The thing's clean impossible.”
“I've just seen her body,” said the Inspector curtly.
The blunt statement seemed to have its effect.
“Well, if that's so, you can count on me for any work you want me to do. I'm quite willing to take it on.”
“That's very satisfactory, Dr. Markfield,” Sir Clinton interposed. “Now, perhaps you could give us help in another line as well. You seem to have been a friend of Mrs. Silverdale's. Could you tell us anything about her—anything you think might be useful to us?”