“Inquest?” Cynthia glanced up, startled. “I thought the inquest was over.”
“No, it hasn’t been held yet.”
“But Uncle James was buried to-day.”
“The funeral could not be postponed, Cynthia. The doctors who performed the autopsy will testify at the inquest.”
“But I thought it was always necessary to hold the inquest after a violent death.”
“It is usually, but in this case the inquest was postponed because you and Philip, two of the most important witnesses, were too ill to attend it.”
Cynthia closed and unclosed her tapering fingers over her handkerchief spasmodically. “Are the detectives still hanging around the house?” she inquired.
“Yes.”
“It’s shameful!” announced Cynthia, sitting upright, “to allow those men to intrude on our grief and privacy. They have arrested Hamilton for the crime, and should leave us alone.”
“They do not think Hamilton guilty.”