“How can it be the truth?” the girl insisted. “Horace and Dr. Romain were both in the lounge-hall, Bude was in the hall, the other menservants were in the servants’ hall. You are the only man in the house not accounted for, and a minute before Bude heard these voices you go down the corridor towards the library. I can understand you wanting to keep it from the police, but why do you want to deceive me?”
“Mary,” answered the young man sternly, “I know you’re upset, but that’s no justification for persisting in this stupid charge against me. I tell you I never saw Parrish or spoke to him, either, between lunch and when I saw him lying dead in the library. I am not going to repeat the denial. But you may as well understand now that I am not in the habit of allowing my friends to doubt my word!”
Mary flamed up at his tone.
“If you are my friend,” she cried, “why can’t you trust me? Why should I find this out from Bude? Why should I be humiliated by hearing from the butler that he kept this evidence from the police in order to please me because you and I are friends? I am only trying to help you, to shield you ...”
“That will do, Mary,” he said. “No, you must hear what I have to say. If you insist on disbelieving me, you must. But I don’t want you to help me. I don’t want you to shield me. I shall make it my business to see that Bude’s evidence is brought before the detective inspector from Scotland Yard who is being brought down here to handle the case ...”
“A detective from Scotland Yard?” the girl repeated.
“Yes, a detective. Humphries is puzzled by several points about this case and has asked for assistance from London. He is right. Neither the circumstances of Parrish’s death nor the motive of his act are clear. Bude’s evidence is sufficient proof that somebody did gain access to the library this afternoon. In that case....”
“Yes....”
“In that case,” said Greve slowly, “it may not be suicide....”
Mary put one hand suddenly to her face as women do when they are frightened. She shrank back.