He looked at her with a smile lilting on his mouth. "Didn't you know?"

Her eyes searched his, while the colour receded slowly from her face. "I didn't do it!" she gasped.

"I shouldn't think you'd have the strength," he agreed.

They were interrupted by the opening of the door. A slim young woman with a cluster of brown curls, a monocle screwed into her left eye, entered the room, saying calmly: "Did you call, Helen?" Her gaze alighted on Neville; she said with every appearance of disgust: "Oh, you're here, are you?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have been if I'd known you were, hell-cat," responded Neville sweetly.

Miss Drew gave a contemptuous snort, and looked critically at her sister. "You look absolutely gangrenous," she remarked. "Anything the matter?"

Helen North's hands twisted nervously together. "Ernie Fletcher's been murdered."

"Good!" said Miss Drew, unperturbed. "Neville come to tell you?"

Helen shuddered. "Oh don't! It's awful, awful!"

"Personally," said Miss Drew, taking a cigarette from the box on the table, and fitting it into a long holder, "I regard it as definitely memorable. I hate men with super polished manners, and charming smiles. Who killed him?"

"I don't know! You can't think I know!" Helen cried. "Sally! - Neville! - oh, my God!" She looked wildly from one to the other, and sank down on to a sofa, burying her face in her hands.

"If it's an act, it's a good one," said Neville. "If not, it's mere waste of time. Do stop it, Helen! you're making me feel embarrassed."

Sally regarded him with disfavour. "You don't seem to be much upset," she said.

"You didn't see me an hour ago," replied Neville. "I even lost my poise."

She sniffed, but merely said: "You'd better tell me all about it. It might be good copy."

"What a lovely thought!" said Neville. "Ernie has not died in vain."