She looked round, startled. A tall man, obviously an Englishman, stood before her.
“Yes,” she said falteringly, “I am Miss Fairfield.”
“My name is Sharrow. I was Mr. Ponting’s friend and partner. I understand that you found the body?”
Then M. Popeau intervened. “Perhaps you will pardon me, sir, for saying that the police have all the particulars of that painful occurrence.”
“I have heard all they have to say; but I hope Miss Fairfield will not mind my asking her a few questions?”
M. Popeau looked very much annoyed and disturbed, perhaps unreasonably so, and Lily was thankful indeed that Count Polda was no longer there. After all, it was natural that this Mr.—what was his name?—Sharrow should wish to speak to her. She nerved herself for what must be, at best, a rather painful little conversation.
Mr. Sharrow’s next words took her by surprise.
“I think you will agree with me,” he said, slowly and impressively, “that Mr. Ponting was the very last man in the world to take his own life.”
Lily hesitated. She really did not know what to answer. And then M. Popeau again intervened.
“You forget, sir, that this young lady hardly knew your unfortunate friend.”