“So there you are,” said Frid. “Come off it, twins. It’s jolly clever, we all admit it’s jolly clever, but this is a serious affair. You can’t pit your puny wits against the master brain of Handsome Alleyn. You know, chaps, if it wasn’t for the fact that Uncle G. was murdered, it’d be rather a big moment for me having Handsome Alleyn in the flat. I’ve nursed an illicit passion for that man ever since the Gospell murder. Is he really the answer to the maiden’s prayer, Henry?”
“Do stop being crisp and modish, Frid,” begged Henry irritably. “You know that, like all the rest of us, you’re nearly dead with terror.”
“No, I’m not, honestly. I may wake up in the night bathed in a cold sweat but at the moment I’m sort of stimulated. Only I wish one of the twins would stop being mad.”
“I wish to God you’d all stop being mad,” said Lord Charles with sudden violence. “I feel as if I were looking at you and listening to you for the first time. Someone in this flat killed my brother.”
There was an awkward silence broken by Frid.
“But, Daddy,” said Frid, “you didn’t like Uncle G. Now did you?”
“Be quiet, Frid,” ordered Henry. “You don’t think any of the family did it, do you, Father?”
“ Good God, of course I don’t!”
“Well, who does everybody think did it?” asked Frid brightly.
“Tinkerton,” said Colin.