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‘Is it not a fact that he is Mrs Carter’s friend?’
‘He is more her friend than Mr Carter’s. But he is also a friend of mine.’
‘We’ll let that pass, miss. Had you no reason to suppose that Mr Steel might feel more than friendly towards Mrs Carter?’
‘You had better ask him,’ said Mary stiffly.
‘I shall do so, miss, make no mistake about that! But I’m asking you now: when he was here this morning did Mr Steel give you any reason to suppose that he was feeling very un-friendly towards Mr Carter?’
‘Mr Steel and Mr Carter never hit it off very well,’ she replied evasively.
‘No, miss? Why was that?’
‘I don’t know. They are very different types.’
‘I put it to you, miss, that you know very well that Mr Steel is in love with Mrs Carter.’
‘Perhaps,’ Mary said. ‘It wouldn’t be surprising if he were.’
‘My information is that Mr Steel told you this morning that he had been in love with Mrs Carter ever since he first knew her. Is that correct?’
Though she had mistrusted Peake, she had not suspected that he had overheard her conversation with Steel. Colour rushed into her cheeks; she felt the ground sliding from under her feet; and could only answer: ‘Yes. He did say so.’
‘Did he also tell you that he would like to break Mr Carter’s neck?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t remember.’
‘Come, come, miss! Don’t you think you would remember if anyone had made a threat like that?’
‘Oh, it wasn’t a threat!’ Mary said unguardedly. ‘Mr Steel was very angry with Mr Carter for upsetting his wife, and people do say stupid things when they’re angry.’
‘And it didn’t seem important to you, in view of what has happened?’
‘No, not in the least.’
‘You weren’t surprised that Mr Steel should say such a thing?’
‘No. He has rather a quick temper—’ She broke off, aghast at her own disclosures.
‘He has a quick temper, has he? Perhaps he has said very much the same sort of thing before about what he’d like to do to Mr Carter?’
‘No, indeed he hasn’t!’
‘Oh? And yet you weren’t surprised when he said it today?’
‘No. I can’t explain, but surely you know how one says extravagant things one doesn’t really mean when one is angry?’
The Inspector ignored this, and as he seemed to have no more questions to ask, Mary rose to her feet. ‘If that’s all—? You wanted to see Prince Varasashvili. He came back about ten minutes ago. Shall I ask him to come in here?’
‘Thank you, miss, if you’ll be so good.’
The Inspector’s first view of the Prince did not predispose him in his favour. The Prince’s sleek black hair, with its ordered waves, his brilliant smile, and his accentuated waist-line, filled the Inspector, a plain man, with vague repulsion. He thought that the Prince looked just the type of good-for-nothing lizard whom you would expect to find hanging round a rich woman like Ermyntrude Carter.
The Prince came in without hesitation, and made a gesture with his expressive hands. ‘You are the Inspector of Police? You desire to interrogate me? I understand perfectly. This terrible affair! You will forgive me that I find myself so startled, so very-much shocked, I can find no words! Ah, my poor hostess!’
‘Yes, indeed, sir,’ said the Inspector woodenly. ‘Very bad business. May
I have your full name and address, please?’
