"Oh, yes. I read of the murder this morning, just as I was leaving Kenterstone on my way to report at the Yard."
"Kenterstone!"
He was almost minded to inquire if the local superintendent was a fat man.
"Sir Peter and Lady Holt left town early in the day, so I went to Kenterstone from Brighton late last night.... The pawnbroker who held Lady Holt's diamonds was treating himself to a long weekend by the sea, and I thought it advisable to see him in person and explain matters."
A memory of the Finchley Road station-sergeant who thought that he had seen Furneaux get on a 'bus at 6 p.m. in North London the previous evening shot through Winter's mind; but he kept to the main line of their talk.
"Do you know who this Rose de Bercy really is?" he suddenly demanded.
For a second Furneaux seemed to hesitate, but the reply came in an even tone.
"I have reason to believe that she was born in Jersey, and that her maiden name was Mirabel Armaud," he said.
"The Rose Queen of a village fête eight years ago?"
Perhaps it was Furneaux's turn to be surprised, but he showed no sign.