The poor girl's distress was so genuine that I must admit I was rather touched. I laid my hand on her shoulder.
"It's generally the best to tell the truth," I said, "and I'm sure you did that."
"Cheer up, Gwendoline," added Billy kindly. "We're not in the soup this journey—you can take my word for it."
There came the sharp honk-honk of a motor horn from outside, followed by the noise of a taxi pulling up at the door.
I turned to the Inspector.
"That sounds like our carriage," I observed. "Ought I to be handcuffed or anything?"
He shook his head, smiling again. "I don't think that will be necessary, sir."
"So long, Billy," I said. "See you in the morning. You'll look after Robert, won't you? The cook's got the key of the cellar."
Billy nodded. "Good!" said he. "We'll do ourselves proud—eh, Constable?"
And in this altogether inappropriate fashion I went down the steps to take my trial for murder.