“So do I, but I can't,” said Giles, getting up, and opening the door. “I'll find out if the Chief Constable is disengaged. You stay where you are.”

He was gone for several minutes, and when he returned it was with the Superintendent and a Constable. Antonia looked at the Constable with deep misgiving. Her cousin smiled reassuringly and said, “This is Superintendent Hannasyde, Tony, from Scotland Yard.”

“How — how grim!” said Antonia in a small voice. “It's particularly bitter because I've always thought how much I should hate to be mixed up in a murder case, on account of having everything you say turned round till you find you've said something quite different.”

The Superintendent bent to pat Bill. “I won't do that,” he promised. “I only want you to tell me just how you came to visit your brother last night, and what you did.”

Antonia drew in her breath. “He was not my brother,” she said. “I'm sick to death of correcting that mistake. He was nothing more than half!”

“I'm sorry,” said the Superintendent. “You see, I've only just come into this case, so you must forgive me if I quite mastered the details. Will you sit down? I understand from Inspector Jerrold that you came to Ashleigh Green yesterday because you wanted to see your half-brother on a private matter. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” said Antonia.

“And when you arrived at the cottage what did you do?”

Antonia gave him a concise account of her movements. Once or twice he prompted her with a question, while the Constable, who had seated himself by the door, busily wrote in shorthand. The Superintendent's manner, unlike the Inspector's, was so free from suspicion, and his way of putting his questions so quiet and understanding, that Antonia's wary reserve soon left her. When he asked her if she was on good terms with Arnold Vereker she replied promptly. “No, very bad terms. I know it isn't any use concealing that, because everyone knows it. We both were.”