“I still admit nothing and I deny your right to question me.”
“Let me put it to you in another way, then,” went on Fayre, firmly keeping a hold on his temper. “You say you are a friend of Leslie’s. He is lying at this moment under the shadow of an accusation that we both know is totally unfounded. In the face of that, do you still refuse to say anything?”
Gregg laughed suddenly and bitterly.
“We both know! There’s a sting there, isn’t there? If by clearing him you mean confessing to a murder I didn’t commit, I certainly do refuse. I suppose that’s what you’re driving at, but you’re taking a good deal for granted, aren’t you?”
Fayre suddenly lost patience.
“Good heavens, man,” he cried, “if you had nothing to do with it, why not say so, and if you can prove it, so much the better. I’ve only one motive in all this, to clear Leslie. Why work against instead of with me?”
“Because I resent your insinuations. If you think you’ve got anything against me, prove it. You’ve apparently had the damned impertinence to rake up my past and pry into my private affairs and you’ve all but told me to my face that I killed Mrs. Draycott. Well, take your story to the police and see what ice it cuts with them! If they’ve any questions to ask me I’m ready to answer them. Meanwhile, I advise you to take your amateur detective work elsewhere.”
Fayre hesitated for a moment; then he decided to make one more effort towards conciliation.
“I’m very sorry you’ve taken this line,” he said. “Frankly, I have hoped all along that you would be able to give some satisfactory explanation of your attitude towards the whole affair. I can very well believe that the subject is a painful one to you and I can sympathize with your reluctance to drag it up again after all these years, but you must admit that your behaviour has been open to suspicion. Once more I appeal to you to act reasonably, if only for Leslie’s sake.”
Gregg’s only answer was to stride heavily to the door and fling it open.