“But I tell you I don't know anything about it,” said Antonia snappishly. “Moreover, if I'm wanted to make statements and sign things, I'll have a lawyer down to see I don't go and incriminate myself.”

The Inspector said in a measured tone. “No one wants you to do that, miss. But you must surely realise that the police are bound to want all the information they can get. You can't object to telling the Chief Constable quite simply anything you know about your brother -”

“Don't keep on calling him my brother! Half-brother!”

“I beg pardon, I'm sure. Anything you know about your half-brother, and what you yourself were doing at the time of the murder.”

“Well, I've already told you that.”

“Yes, Miss, and what I want you to do is tell it again, just in what words you please, at the Station, where it can be taken down in shorthand, and given you to read over and correct, if you like, and sign. There isn't any harm in that, is there?”

The girl stubbed the end of her cigarette into her saucer. “It seems to me there might he a lot of harm in it,” she said with paralysing frankness. “If you're going to investigate my half-brother's murder you're bound to find out quite a lot of happy little details about our family, so I might just as well tell you at the outset that I loathed the sight of Arnold, I didn't happen to murder him, but I haven't got an alibi, and, as far as I can see, things rather point my way. So if it's all the same to you - and equally if it isn't - I shan't say anything at all till I see my solicitor.”

“Very well, miss, it's just as you like. And if you'll accompany me to Hanborough you can ring your solicitor from the station.”