“It is; and we shan’t mend it by sitting here and talking.” Anthony got to his feet. “By the way, before I go, tell me: what is Mrs. Mainwaring, who is she, that this poor swine don’t see her? If it comes to that, why is she here at all?”
Sir Arthur made a wry face. “Why you haven’t seen her I can’t tell. Why she’s staying here is, I’m sorry to say, for the notoriety. Any decent person would have left the house at once. I’m disgusted; I used almost to like the woman. I would have left, but Laura wished me to stay. And she’s so apathetic that she won’t get rid of the Mainwaring.”
“I must see the lady,” said Anthony.
Sir Arthur looked at him with curiosity, but found no enlightenment.
“In fact,” said Anthony, “I must see both ladies.”
Sir Arthur looked at him again, with no result.
“A last question,” Anthony said: “what—without prejudice—do you think of the man-servant, Robert Belford of the ferret face?”
“I wondered whether you’d ask about him,” Sir Arthur said eagerly. “I didn’t like to say anything because I really know nothing against him at all. Never had anything to do with him, in fact. He used to valet John, and would have me, only I don’t use valets. It’s simply that I can’t bear the fellow; his looks are enough to make any one suspicious. And he’s been more furtive than ever—since the—the murder.”
“H’m,” grunted Anthony.
“It’s really very ungrateful of me,” said Sir Arthur, “to say anything against the man. He was one—or really two—of the witnesses to the fact that I was sitting here in this chair from ten until after—until poor old John was found. But still, joking aside, I have a very real feeling that Mr. Belford at least knows more than he has told.”