I nodded assent, and followed her out of the shop to the smart little two-seater, which she managed with a skill that betokened plentiful practice. As we drove off I saw Pepster walking slowly through the village.
“I don’t know that man,” Kitty said, as Pepster saluted, “but I have seen him about quite a lot lately. And he was at the—the inquest. I suppose he belongs to the police.”
“Yes, a detective. He is very interested in me.”
“I dare say you are a very interesting person,” Kitty rejoined equably.
“You see,” I went on, “I am under suspicion.”
She turned to have another look at Pepster, and the car swerved suddenly to the left.
“Steady on!” I cried. “You’ll have us into the wall.”
“But—I do not understand. Why should they—?”
“Oh, the story is very simple. The police knew I was out late on that particular night. Sergeant Gamley saw me. They questioned me, of course, and after all, it was a trifle—er—suspicious-looking, wasn’t it? Here was I, a new-comer and a stranger, wandering about the Dale at midnight—”
I paused and glanced at her to note the effect of my words; and was interested to see that she had grown perceptibly paler.