“Are you mad, Robin?” she cried. “Who could have wanted to kill poor Hartley? Why should you put these ideas into the heads of the police? Bude may have imagined everything. Now, you’ll be sensible, promise me....”
Very gently he detached the two slim hands that held his coat. His mouth was set in a firm line.
“We are going to sift this thing to the bottom, Mary,” he said, “no matter what are the consequences. You owe it to Parrish and you owe it to me....”
The telephone trilled suddenly.
Robin picked up the receiver,
“Yes, Bude,” he said.
There was a moment’s silence in the room broken as the clock on the mantelpiece chimed nine times. Then Robin said into the telephone:
“Right! Tell him I’ll be down immediately!”
He put down the receiver and turned to Mary.
“A detective inspector has arrived from London. He is asking to see me. I must go downstairs.”