“Why?” asked the girl.

A shade of severity crept into the Inspector's voice. “You'll pardon me, miss, but you're behaving in a silly way. There's been an accident connected with this house, and it's my duty to get what information I can about it.”

“Well, you aren't likely to get much out of me,” observed the girl. “Don't know anything, My name's Antonia Vereker. Address, 3 Grayling Street, Chelsea. What the devil's the matter now?”

The Inspector had looked up quickly from his notebook. “A relation of Mr Arnold Vereker?” he said.

“Half-sister.”

The Inspector lowered his gaze to the book again, and carefully wrote down the name and address. “And you say you have not seen Mr Vereker since you came here?”

“Haven't seen him for months.”

“How long have you been here, miss?”

“Since last night. Sevenish.”

“Did you come especially to see your brother?”

“Half-brother. Of course I did. But I haven't seen him. He never turned up.”

“You were expecting him, then?”

“Look here!” said Antonia strongly. “Do you think I should have motored thirty-five miles to this place if I hadn't expected to see him?”

“No, miss. But you said a minute or two back that Mr Vereker was not expecting you. I was merely wondering how it was that with him not expecting you, and you not having seen him for months, you were sure enough of finding him here to come all that way?”

“I wasn't sure. But I know his habits. Coming here over the week-end is one of them.”

“I take it you wanted to see him urgently, miss?”

“I wanted to see him, and I still want to see him,” said Antonia.

“I'm afraid, miss, that won't be possible,” said the Inspector, getting up from his chair.

She stared at him in a smouldering way. “Oh, won't it?” she said.

“No, miss. I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mr Vereker has met with an accident.”