“That was quite natural,” Sir Clinton reassured her. “In fact, I’m not sure that it matters much even yet. I’m just trying for any evidence I can get. Tell me anything whatever that you noticed, no matter whether it seems important or not.”
Joan thought for almost a minute before replying.
“I did notice the chauffeur putting the hood up, and I wondered what on earth he was doing that for on a blazing day.”
“Anything else?”
“He had his tool-kit out and seemed to be going to do some repair or other.”
“At the moment when he’d brought the car round for Foss?” demanded the Inspector, rather incredulously. “Surely he’d have everything spick and span before he left the garage?”
“You’d better ask him about it, himself, Inspector,” said Joan, tartly. “I’m merely telling what I saw; and I saw that plain enough. Besides, he may have known he’d plenty of time. Mr. Foss was going away with us and obviously he wasn’t in a hurry to use the car.”
Sir Clinton ignored the Inspector’s interruption.
“I’ve got my own car at the door,” he observed. “Perhaps you could go out on to the terrace and direct me while I bring it into the same position as you saw Foss’s car that afternoon.”
Joan agreed; and they went down together.