"Yes, sir."
"Does he have a fire?"
"Never in the summer, sir."
"He's a warmer-blooded creature than Mr. Hilton, I fancy."
"I expect so, sir."
"Well, now, there's nothing here. But we detectives have to nose around everywhere. I'm sure you are terribly upset by your master's death. Everybody gives him a good word."
"Indeed, he deserved it, sir. We all liked him. He was strict but very generous."
Furneaux chatted with her while they descended the stairs and traversed devious passages till the butler's room was gained. By that time the housemaid was convinced that Mr. Furneaux was "a very nice man." When she "did" Hilton Fenley's rooms she missed the glass, but gave no heed to its absence. Who would bother about a glass in a house where murder had been done? She simply replaced it by another of the same pattern.
"May I inquire, sir," said Tomlinson, when Furneaux had washed face and hands and was seated at a table laid for two, "may I inquire if you have any preference as to a luncheon wine?"
"I think," said Furneaux with due solemnity, "that a still wine——"