"No," she replied quite calmly. "I know from this letter what must have occurred there. But who killed the girl I cannot say."
"Who was the girl they found dead?" I asked breathlessly.
"Ah! How can I tell? I did not see her."
In a few quick words I described the deceased, but either she did not recognise her from the description, or she refused to tell me. In any case, she declared herself in ignorance.
The situation was galling and tantalising. I was so near discovering the truth, and yet my inquiries had only plunged me more deeply into a quagmire of suspicion and horror. The more I tried to extricate myself the deeper I sank.
"But whoever the poor girl may have been, you still maintain that Phrida Shand was Digby's most deadly enemy?" I asked quickly, setting a trap for her.
I took her unawares, and she fell into it.
"Yes," was her prompt response. An instant later, however, realising how she had been led to make an allegation which she had not intended, she hastened to correct herself, saying: "Ah, no! Of course, I do not allege that. I—I only know that Digby was acquainted with her, and that——"
"Well?" I asked slowly, when she paused.
"That—that he regretted the acquaintanceship."