to want to talk to? Honestly, there's nothing to be afraid of."
"Oh, I know, but when one's nerves have had a frightful shock, one simply isn't oneself. I really do feel as though I were going to be sick, or faint, or something."
At this moment Jim came into the room with a glass in his hand. Rosemary was rocking herself slightly, giving little dry sobs. He went to her and, putting his arm round her shoulders, held the glass to her lips. "It's only brandy—— Come along!"
Her teeth chattered against the glass, but she swallowed the spirit and said chokingly: "Thanks. What does that awful man want with me?"
"He isn't awful. Quite human," Jim replied.
"There's something about policemen that makes one's inside turn upside down," said Rosemary. "I can't help it. I shall be all right in a minute."
"Have they found out anything, Jim?" asked Miss Allison in a low voice.
Over Rosemary's head his eyes met hers for a moment. "No. Not yet."
"What's going to happen?"
"I don't know. Looks like a nasty mess. Do you feel fit enough to see Inspector Carlton now, Rosemary?"
"As long as he doesn't expect me to think!" said Rosemary unpromisingly.
Jim went out again, and in a few minutes the inspector came into the room.
His initial speech of sympathy for the murdered man's widow and his apology for being obliged to disturb her at such a time did much to restore Rosemary's poise. She stopped rocking herself to and fro and achieving a wan smile explained that she was one of those excessively highly-strung people whose nerves were simply unequal to the task of bearing her up in the face of disaster.
The inspector said that he quite understood.
"Everything seems to be a blank," added Rosemary, passing a hand across her eyes.
"I am sure no one could be surprised that you should feel like that, madam. It must be a terrible shock. I understand you were not in the house when it happened."
"Thank God, no!" answered Rosemary with a strong shudder. "I think I should have gone quite, quite mad."
"Yes indeed, madam. I wonder if you would mind telling me just where you were at the time?"
"I think I must have been down by the lake. I went there—oh, at about three, I should think. Miss Allison saw me go, didn't you, Patricia?"
Miss Allison corroborated this and found herself favoured by the inspector with a long searching look.
"Miss Allison?" he said.
"Yes."
"You are Mrs. John Kane's secretary, I understand?"
"Yes."
"You were in the house at the time of the murder?"
"Yes. I was in the room next to this."
"Thank you," said the inspector, making an entry in his notebook. He glanced at Rosemary again. "Was anyone with you in the garden this afternoon, madam?"
"Oh yes!" replied Rosemary nervously. "A friend of ours called. I was sitting talking to him by the lake for quite some time."
"His name?" asked the inspector, pencil poised.
"Dermott—Mr. Trevor Dermott. A very old friend of ours."
The inspector looked up. "Is Mr. Dermott on the premises now?"
"No, oh no! He left some time ago. I mean, before I'd the least idea of this frightful thing having happened."
"Mr. Dermott did not, to your knowledge, see your husband this afternoon, madam?"
"No, I know he didn't. He never came up to the house at all. My husband had a business appointment, and I walked down the drive to meet Mr. Dermott. He simply left his car down the drive, and we sat by the lake till he had to go."
The inspector looked at her. "You were expecting Mr. Dermott this afternoon?"
"Well, yes, in a way I was. I mean, he said he might look me up today if he got back from town."
"I see." The inspector closed his notebook. "Had your husband, to your knowledge, any enemies, madam?"
Rosemary did not answer for a moment. Miss Allison watched her with misgiving. Rosemary raised her eyes to the inspector's face and said hesitantly: "I hardly know what to say. As a matter of fact, I do happen to know that he was having a good deal of trouble at the office with his
"Oh, I know, but when one's nerves have had a frightful shock, one simply isn't oneself. I really do feel as though I were going to be sick, or faint, or something."
At this moment Jim came into the room with a glass in his hand. Rosemary was rocking herself slightly, giving little dry sobs. He went to her and, putting his arm round her shoulders, held the glass to her lips. "It's only brandy—— Come along!"
Her teeth chattered against the glass, but she swallowed the spirit and said chokingly: "Thanks. What does that awful man want with me?"
"He isn't awful. Quite human," Jim replied.
"There's something about policemen that makes one's inside turn upside down," said Rosemary. "I can't help it. I shall be all right in a minute."
"Have they found out anything, Jim?" asked Miss Allison in a low voice.
Over Rosemary's head his eyes met hers for a moment. "No. Not yet."
"What's going to happen?"
"I don't know. Looks like a nasty mess. Do you feel fit enough to see Inspector Carlton now, Rosemary?"
"As long as he doesn't expect me to think!" said Rosemary unpromisingly.
Jim went out again, and in a few minutes the inspector came into the room.
His initial speech of sympathy for the murdered man's widow and his apology for being obliged to disturb her at such a time did much to restore Rosemary's poise. She stopped rocking herself to and fro and achieving a wan smile explained that she was one of those excessively highly-strung people whose nerves were simply unequal to the task of bearing her up in the face of disaster.
The inspector said that he quite understood.
"Everything seems to be a blank," added Rosemary, passing a hand across her eyes.
"I am sure no one could be surprised that you should feel like that, madam. It must be a terrible shock. I understand you were not in the house when it happened."
"Thank God, no!" answered Rosemary with a strong shudder. "I think I should have gone quite, quite mad."
"Yes indeed, madam. I wonder if you would mind telling me just where you were at the time?"
"I think I must have been down by the lake. I went there—oh, at about three, I should think. Miss Allison saw me go, didn't you, Patricia?"
Miss Allison corroborated this and found herself favoured by the inspector with a long searching look.
"Miss Allison?" he said.
"Yes."
"You are Mrs. John Kane's secretary, I understand?"
"Yes."
"You were in the house at the time of the murder?"
"Yes. I was in the room next to this."
"Thank you," said the inspector, making an entry in his notebook. He glanced at Rosemary again. "Was anyone with you in the garden this afternoon, madam?"
"Oh yes!" replied Rosemary nervously. "A friend of ours called. I was sitting talking to him by the lake for quite some time."
"His name?" asked the inspector, pencil poised.
"Dermott—Mr. Trevor Dermott. A very old friend of ours."
The inspector looked up. "Is Mr. Dermott on the premises now?"
"No, oh no! He left some time ago. I mean, before I'd the least idea of this frightful thing having happened."
"Mr. Dermott did not, to your knowledge, see your husband this afternoon, madam?"
"No, I know he didn't. He never came up to the house at all. My husband had a business appointment, and I walked down the drive to meet Mr. Dermott. He simply left his car down the drive, and we sat by the lake till he had to go."
The inspector looked at her. "You were expecting Mr. Dermott this afternoon?"
"Well, yes, in a way I was. I mean, he said he might look me up today if he got back from town."
"I see." The inspector closed his notebook. "Had your husband, to your knowledge, any enemies, madam?"
Rosemary did not answer for a moment. Miss Allison watched her with misgiving. Rosemary raised her eyes to the inspector's face and said hesitantly: "I hardly know what to say. As a matter of fact, I do happen to know that he was having a good deal of trouble at the office with his
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