But I saw easily enough that my chance shot had hit the mark. And I sat eyeing him thoughtfully for a moment or two wondering how far it would be safe to go.
“I suppose,” I said, speaking calmly, even casually, as if it were a matter of no great moment, “it was over Miss Kitty Clevedon that you quarrelled with the late baronet.”
“You have no right—” he began explosively but I pulled him up.
“Oh, yes I have,” I replied, “you see I am retained, in a semi-professional capacity—”
“Yes, I know,” he cried. “That damned old fool—”
“Meaning whom?” I interrupted.
“Oh, I beg her pardon,” he said. “Yes, I meant Lady Clevedon. Why did she want to drag you into it? You have a reputation, haven’t you, for solving such puzzles as—”
“Some little,” I agreed. “I shall solve this.”
“Yes,” he said, “and I don’t want it solved. At least, I want to see it buried and forgotten. The thing’s a damned nightmare. There, now it’s out. We want you to drop the case—to go away and leave it alone.”
“We?” I echoed. “Does Miss Clevedon know of this visit?”