“Had he any enemies, do you know? Anybody who would drive him to a thing like this?”
The girl shook her head vehemently.
“No!”
The monosyllable came out emphatically. Again the Inspector darted one of his quick, shrewd glances at the girl. She met his scrutiny with her habitual serene and candid gaze. The Inspector dropped his eyes and scribbled in his book.
“Was his health good?”
“He smoked far too much,” the girl said, “and it made him rather nervy. But otherwise he never had a day’s illness in his life.”
Humphries ran his eye over the notes he had made.
“There is just one more question I should like to ask you, Miss Trevert,” he said, “rather a personal question.”
Mary Trevert’s hands twisted the cambric handkerchief into a little ball and slowly unwound it again. But her face remained quite calm.
“About your engagement to Mr. Parrish ... when did it take place?”