‘There are a lot of people interested in that point,’ he said at last. ‘I am myself, for one.’
‘So we gathered,’ murmured Martin, under his breath, while Abbershaw spoke hastily.
‘Doctor Whitby,’ he said, ‘you and I committed a very grave offence by signing those certificates.’
‘Yes,’ said Whitby, and paused for a moment or so, after which he brightened up visibly and hurried on. ‘But really, my dear sir, in the circumstances I don’t see that we could have done anything else, do you? We were the victims of a stronger force.’
Abbershaw disregarded the other’s smile and spoke steadily.
‘Doctor Whitby,’ he said, ‘do you know who murdered Colonel Coombe?’
The little doctor’s benign expression did not alter.
‘Why, of course,’ he said. ‘I should have thought that, at least, was obvious to everybody – everybody who knew anything at all about the case, that is.’
Abbershaw shook his head.
‘I’m afraid we must plead either great stupidity or peculiarly untrusting dispositions,’ he said. ‘That is the point on which we are not at all satisfied.’