"But I tell you I killed 'im!" she said. "Why won't you believe me? I killed 'im with the little knife my 'usband brought home from Spain."
"So you say, but we have no proof that what you say is true."
She stared hostilely at them both. "You'd think you weren't police at all to listen to you," she remarked. "If it weren't for that young man you've got, I'd walk home right now. I never knew such fools. What more do you want when I've confessed?"
"Oh, quite a lot more," Barker said, as Grant was still silent. "For instance, how could you have killed Sorrell when you were in front of him in the queue?"
"I wasn't in front of 'im. I was standing behind 'im all the time till the queue began to move up tight. Then I stuck the knife in and after a little I shoved in front, keepin' close to 'im all the time so he shouldn't fall."
This time Barker dropped his complaisant manner and looked at her keenly. "And what was Sorrell to you that you should stick a knife in him?" he asked.
"Bert Sorrell wasn't anything to me, but he 'ad to be killed and I killed 'im, see? That's all."
"Did you know Sorrell?"
"Yes."
"How long have you known him?"