She considered him a moment in silence. Potter’s big frame did not show to best advantage in his sack suit which betrayed the need of sponging and pressing. The naturalist seldom gave a thought to his personal appearance.
“How is your wife?” she asked.
Potter started a trifle at the abrupt question.
“Quite well,” he replied. “But a bit fagged after the inquest. She was one of the witnesses, you know.”
“And you—”
“I was not called by the coroner,” shortly. “Ted Rodgers and I sat together in the court room. He’s a good chap, Ted—promised Kitty to help trace her aunt’s murderer.”
The pupils of Mrs. Parsons’ eyes contracted. “I did not realize that they were on such terms of intimacy,” she remarked, and her voice had grown sharper. “Do you think Mr. Rodgers will have a difficult task?”
Potter ran his fingers through his untidy grey hair. “That remains to be seen,” he replied. “So far, all that we know is that my cousin, Miss Susan Baird, was poisoned with prussic acid.”
“Is that all the police know?” she questioned rapidly.