Sir Adrian Harte paid the taxi driver, saw his suitcases safely in the hands of Pritchard, who had appeared as if by magic at the sound of an approaching car, and walked into the house beside his stepson. "My dear boy, in this weather?" he asked plaintively.
Jim, no fisherman, apologised. "I forgot. When did you get back to town?"
"Yesterday evening," replied Sir Adrian. "I thought I had better come down and see what was happening here." He put his monocle into his eye and glanced at Jim with a pained, faintly inquiring expression. "Rather unusual, isn't it?"
"It is a bit, sir," said Jim. "Not altogether pleasant, either."
"Ah no, I dare say not," agreed Sir Adrian. "I have never been mixed up in a murder case myself, but I imagine the situation must be very disagreeable. A pity you should have been here at the time. I don't know what your mother will say."
"How is Mother?" asked Jim. "Have you had any news of her?"
"No," said Sir Adrian, preceding him into the library, "not a word. I wondered whether you might not have had a letter."
"Nothing since the card she sent from that illegible address. What do you suppose can have happened to her?"
"I've no idea," replied Sir Adrian. "If your mother were not such an erratic letter-writer, I should consider it really rather disturbing. However, I've no doubt there is some perfectly ordinary explanation for her silence." He sank into a chair. "Well, my dear boy, you had better tell me all about it. I imagine you are not, at the moment, in a very enviable position."
"No, not entirely," said Jim. "The evidence all seems to point my way. I don't think the police can bring themselves to believe that I really had no idea I was the next heir."
"I confess I was rather surprised that you were apparently ignorant of the fact," remarked Sir Adrian.
"Did you know, sir?"
"Oh yes; I'm sure your mother told me the rights of it years ago. If it is not a vulgar question, how much do you inherit?"
"I'm not altogether sure. Cousin Silas left close on a quarter of a million, but the death duties are colossal."
"I expect there will be enough left for your simple needs," said Sir Adrian.
Jim grinned. "More than enough, I should think. But my needs aren't going to be quite so simple in the future. I'm engaged to be married."
Sir Adrian looked mildly surprised. "Dear me, are you? I don't think you mentioned that in your letter, did you?"
"No, I didn't think it went well, cheek by jowl with the announcement of Clement's death."
"Ah, artistic discrimination! Have I the pleasure of knowing the lady?"
"Rather, sir! It's Patricia Allison, Aunt Emily's companion."
Sir Adrian frowned slightly. "I don't think I've met her."
"Yes, you have, Adrian, the last time you were here."
"If you say so, no doubt it is so. I find, as I grow older, that people make very little impression on me. Is this what your mother would consider a suitable alliance?"
"Very much so, I assure you."
"I feel sure you know your own business best," said Sir Adrian. "By the way, didn't I send Timothy here?"
"You did, and he's very much here."
"Yes, I thought I did. I couldn't recall, when I got back to town, what arrangements I had made, but it occurred to me on the train that I must have sent him here. To turn to more important matters, have you come across old Mr. Kane's stamp collection?"
"No, had he got one?"
"My dear Jim!" Sir Adrian sounded genuinely shocked. "He had a unique collection. I have on more than one occasion offered to buy at least three of the specimens from Silas, who, I may say, had no feeling for them other than a purely Kane desire to hold fast to his possessions. I will buy them from you, if you like to sell."
"Good Lord, Adrian, you can have the whole collection, if you want it! It doesn't mean a thing to me."
"I shan't impose on your innocence as much as that," replied Sir Adrian with a faint smile.
The door opened at this moment to admit Timothy, who bounced in, saying: "I say, Jim, I've asked Mr. Roberts—oh, hullo, Father! I didn't see you." He went up to shake his parent by the hand. "I quite thought you'd gone to Scotland. How did you get here?"
"My arrival seems to cause you and Jim a great deal of quite unmerited surprise," said Sir Adrian. "I had five days of unbroken sunshine and then came home."
"Oh, I see! I say, Jim, I've asked Mr. Roberts in to tea. Is it all right? I met him outside the cinema, and he asked whether I thought you'd mind him coming up to see you some time. You don't, do you? I told him I knew you wouldn't."
"And, as you see, I took him at his word and ventured to come," said Oscar Roberts from the open doorway. "But you've only to say the word and I'll catch the next bus back to Portlaw."
"Of course not! Do come in!" said Jim. "Adrian, may I introduce Mr. Roberts? My stepfather, Sir Adrian Harte, sir."
"Pleased to meet you, Sir Adrian. Your son and I have been getting along fine together—or rather we were till this durned sergeant from Scotland Yard came and cut me right out of the picture," he added with a twinkle.
"Oh, I say, sir, that's not fair!" protested Timothy. "It was only that I wanted to see how a detective really works."
Oscar Roberts dropped a hand on his shoulder and pressed it. "Sure you did, sonny. I was only kidding. Well, I fancy you don't want a stranger butting in on your family party, Mr. Kane. Maybe if I came along tomorrow—"
Sir Adrian said: "I seem to be in the way. I'm sure you would like some private conversation with my stepson, Mr. Roberts. I was just about to go up to my room. You may come with me, Timothy."
He bore Timothy off with him. Oscar Roberts took the chair his host pushed forward and said: "I've not come to persuade you into falling in with my proposition."
Jim laughed. "Thank God for that!"
"Yes, I thought you'd perhaps be receiving a visit from one or other of your partners." He accepted a cigar from the box Jim held out to him and sought in his pocket for his cutter. As he lit the cigar he said, peering at Jim through the smoke: "Say, I'd like us to be frank, Kane."
"By all means."
Roberts leaned forward to lay his dead match in the ashtray on the table. "That certainly makes it easier to say what I want to. I wouldn't like you to get me wrong over this little business deal I'm trying to put through. If I can get them, I want Kane and Mansell's nets for my firm to handle down under. But I'm not out to start a general holocaust all to get the best when the next-best will suit pretty near as well."
"I beg your pardon?" Jim stiffened a little.
The cool, calculating eyes did not waver. "Guess we'll leave it at that, Kane. There's been some mighty queer happenings in this house, and I'm bound to admit they seem to hang together a piece with my coming onto the scene. Maybe that's just a coincidence; maybe it's not. But I'd like to have you know that I'm not pressing your partners for an answer. I've a notion they'll try and put the screw on you. Well, I'm not turning it. I certainly shall be glad to get the matter settled one way or the other, but I appreciate your position, and I wouldn't be the one to push you into a deal you don't properly understand and might regret. That's no way to do business. I like to have you think it over and get some impartial advice. You won't keep me waiting any longer than is reasonable. I'll treat myself to a little vacation."
"It's extraordinarily decent of you," said Jim. "I do want time to find my feet; but isn't it asking rather a lot of you to keep you kicking your heels while I try to get abreast of this infernal net business?"
"If I see a chance of putting the deal through, I'll be content to kick my heels for a space." He regarded the tip of his cigar inscrutably. "It's not uninteresting—kicking my heels in Portlaw."
"You're interested in my cousin's murder?" said Jim bluntly.
"Well"—Roberts glanced at him with a slight look of amusement—"I feel I might be responsible in a roundabout way. You'll admit it's a fairly cute little problem the police are up against."
"A filthy case. They've called in Scotland Yard now."
"Yes, I'd the pleasure of receiving a call from Superintendent Hannasyde this morning."
"I believe he's pretty good. Rather a nice chap, I thought."
"Sure. I reckon he's the competent type they breed up at Scotland Yard. He's smart enough to get right onto Silas Kane's death. The trouble is, he's got mighty little to go on. Somebody certainly handled that business well. You have to hand it to them."
"You've always thought my cousin Silas was murdered, haven't you?" Jim asked curiously.
"I wouldn't say that. I thought maybe his death would bear some more investigating than it got."
"Yes, it looks like that now; but at the time I don't think any of us suspected there might have been foul play. It's going to be investigated now all right."
"That's so; but when you get a kind of family affair like this, it always seems to me the police have to work under a big handicap. This superintendent from London's no fool, but he doesn't know the folks he's dealing with. He can find out a lot through asking questions, but he can't get to know them the way a man moving amongst them like I am can. They're just naturally on their guard with him."
"You ought to have been a detective," said Jim, laughing.
Oscar Roberts smiled but said nothing.
"Do you mind telling me," said Jim; "have you got hold of something the police haven't?"
There was a slight pause. "Why, no, I wouldn't say that," replied Roberts in his measured way. "I'm not holding out on the police. Maybe I've got a hunch. I don't want you to feel sore at me chiselling in on what isn't, strictly speaking, any of my business. You've got to remember I was one of the first to see your cousin after he'd been shot. What's more, it sticks a bit in my head that I was to get Mr. Clement Kane's answer to my proposition that day. It looked a cinch he was going to turn me down flat. Well, he didn't get a chance to do it. Someone bumped him off first. Guess that gives me an excuse for taking an interest in the case, Kane."
"Oh, I've no objection!" Jim said. "Good luck to you!"
"Thanks." Roberts uncrossed his long legs and prepared to get up. "There's just one other thing I'd like to say." He rose and hesitated for a moment. "Don't misunderstand me, Kane: I'm going on a hunch only. But I'm bound to say that, if I stood in your shoes, I'd watch out for trouble."
Jim got up, a spark of anger in his eyes. "I think your hunch is fantastic, sir; but by God, if the Mansells think they can frighten me into falling in with their damned schemes they've got another guess coming to them!"
Oscar Roberts chuckled. "That's the spirit. But all the same, I wouldn't sit around by open windows all by yourself, Kane. An easy target's kind of tempting."
Jim's chin jutted mulishly. "If I thought there was a word of truth in it, damn it, I'd turn the whole Australian project down now!"
"Now, that's not what I want at all!" said Roberts. "I appreciate the way you feel, but I certainly didn't come here to put you right against my proposition."
Jim gave a reluctant laugh. "I'll try and keep an impartial mind. And thanks for the warning! Come out and join the tea party now."
Roberts demurred a little but allowed himself to be over-persuaded. Tea had been taken out on to the terrace some minutes before, and quite a large party was already gathered there. Emily, hearing of Sir Adrian's arrival, had come down in her best black silk dress, an honour not accorded by her to many, and was sitting with him beside her, listening to his cultured, rather languid voice with a less forbidding air than usual. Sir Adrian to every Kane but Jim was the unknown quantity.
Kane instinct bade Emily despise him for a fool who had never done a stroke of work in his life; Kane sense told her that, though he might be vague and impractical, he was no fool. His conversation was strange to her but gave her pleasure; his point of view nearly always clashed with her own, but though she might pour scorn on it, secretly she respected his judgment.
Rosemary and Betty Pemble were next to each other. Betty, having spent an hour alternately sympathising with Rosemary for having been left only Clement's private fortune and agreeing with her that it wasn't as though Jim had ever done anything to deserve the inheritance of the Kane estate, and that there was a hard streak in Patricia Allison, due undoubtedly to her spinsterhood, had leaped into the front rank of Rosemary's close friends. With the reappearance of her children upon the scene, however, Betty's attention had become necessarily diverted from Rosemary. She had settled them at a small table at a discreet distance from the rest of the party and was engaged, when Jim Kane and Oscar Roberts came out on to the terrace, in hushing them whenever their voices rose to obtrusive heights, which was often, and in remonstrating with them on the size of the portions they saw fit to cram into their mouths. Occasionally she explained apologetically to Rosemary that they weren't usually a bit like this. Timothy had ensconced himself beside Patricia at the tea table. Whenever the children offended his sense of propriety he glared at his plate and muttered: "Gosh!" in accents of repulsion.
Emily greeted Oscar Roberts without much cordiality.
She was not in the habit of attempting to overcome her prejudices and saw no reason to make an exception in this case. Roberts' way of drawing his heels together and bowing as he took her hand she condemned as foreign. She knew no more disparaging adjective.
She gave him a curt "How-de-do?" and immediately turned again to Sir Adrian and requested him to tell her what his wife was doing, gallivanting about Africa at her age.
"I really don't know," replied Sir Adrian.
"Then you ought to know!" said Emily tartly.
He smiled but merely said that he never presumed to question Norma's activities.
This was the kind of remark which Emily found baffling. In her opinion men ought to question their wives' activities. She would have said as much to most people but had just enough respect for Sir Adrian to refrain. She said instead: "She'll get eaten by cannibals one of these days."
"Oh, I don't think so!" replied Sir Adrian with easy optimism. "She's very capable, you know. An amazing woman! I find myself quite unable to keep pace with her extraordinary vitality." His glance wandered to Timothy's face, and from his to Jim's. "I fancy neither of her sons has inherited her forceful character."
"A good thing too!" said Emily. "What do you mean to do with that boy of yours?"
Sir Adrian looked rather alarmed. "Do with him?" he repeated.
"Yes," said Emily, impatiently. "What are you going to put him into?"
"Oh—ah! Well, it is rather too soon to think about that. He seems to me singularly ill suited to any profession which I can at the moment call to mind."
Emily gave one of her croaks of laughter and said after a moment: "I suppose you know the police suspect Jim?"
"I imagine they would be very likely to do so," he replied, gently polishing his eyeglass. "A lot of nonsense! I've no patience with it."
Sir Adrian got up to take his cup to Miss Allison and, as Oscar Roberts began to talk to Emily, remained standing by the tea table, sipping his tea and exchanging a few commonplaces with Patricia. He presently drifted away to a vacant chair beside Betty Pemble's, who at once engaged him in conversation. Her children, having finished their tea, had gone off in search of their new friend the gardener, so that Betty was able to give her undivided attention to Sir Adrian.
She thought him a most distinguished-looking man and was only too glad to be given the opportunity of telling him how much she felt for the family, and how she wished there was something she could do to help. Sir Adrian replied courteously but in a rather bored voice, and when Betty said that she expected he felt as though Jim were his own son, he said: "Dear me, no! Not in the least," with a good deal of mild surprise. He might have added that he had little or no parental feeling for Timothy, either; but happily for Betty's opinion of him, he was not in the habit of talking about himself, and so did not. He had, however, said enough to make Betty confide later to her husband that, charming though he was, she could not help feeling that there was something rather sinister about Sir Adrian.
Miss Allison did not find him sinister, but he seemed to her unapproachable. It was quite impossible to discover whether one were making a good or a bad impression upon him, for his manner was the same towards everyone. She could fancy that one saw him through a mist, which he had carefully wrapped round himself, and behind which he dwelt, blissfully aloof.
He seemed to take more interest in the whereabouts of old John Kane's stamp collection than in Clement's murder, and when Jim, in the privacy of his own bedroom, recounted his interview with Roberts to him, he said with a faint look of distaste: "Rather lurid, don't you think?"
"Yes, I do," replied Jim "Lurid and absurd. But you can't get away from the fact that, whether because they disliked the Australian scheme or for some other reason, Cousin Silas and Clement are both dead."
"Are you feeling nervous, Jim?"
"No, not exactly nervous. I'm not sitting about by open windows much."
"Well, I see no harm in that, if you feel there might be danger in it," said Sir Adrian. "But I find that my mind is quite unable to accept the possibility of a third murder taking place while the police are investigating the first and the second."
"Highly improbable," agreed Jim. His eyes narrowed at the corners in a rueful smile. "If you're apparently the third victim, it's surprising how much improbability you can swallow."
"Yes, I have no doubt it obscures your judgment," said Sir Adrian.
Jim laughed. "If ever I get badly rattled, I shall come and hold your hand, Adrian. You're the most tranquillising person I know. With you about the place, even the first two murders seem a bit farfetched. If you stay long enough, we shall begin to doubt whether they ever really happened. I'm sure you never had any murders in your family, did you?"
"No, we have always contrived to keep out of the penny press," replied Sir Adrian, looking through his stud box for a pair of cuff links.
Jim shook his head. "You must loathe being mixed up with a vulgar lot like us," he said solemnly.
"Don't be absurd, my dear boy."
Jim strolled towards the door. "I'll go and change. Oh, Adrian, can you bear it? I've gone into Trade—at least, it looks as though I probably shall."
"I can bear it; but I doubt whether your mother will like it. She will think it very unenterprising of you."
"Oh, Mother will want me to finance an expedition to the North Pole, I expect," grinned Jim.
"You are quite wrong. Unless my memory is at fault, your mother wishes to make Central China her next objective," said Sir Adrian, busy with his tie.
Later that evening Miss Allison, finding herself alone with him for a few moments, broached the same subject to him. "Mr. Roberts told me he had warned Jim to take no risks," she said. "Do you think it possible that the Mansells could—could really contemplate murder just to get their own way over this business deal?"
"No, I do not," replied Sir Adrian. "It is, of course, a temptation to believe an ill-conditioned young man like the younger Mansell to be capable of almost any crime, but one should guard against allowing mere prejudice to colour one's judgment."
"I have told myself that," said Miss Allison. "I expect I'm being stupidly anxious; but you see, it means rather a lot to me. When you care for a person your reason gets rather swamped."
"I hope you are not implying that I am the callous stepfather of legend?" said Sir Adrian, looking quizzically down at her.
She smiled. "Of course not. But he's not like your own son, or—or your fiancй, is he?"
"Certainly not in the least like my fiancй. And, I am happy to say, not much like my own son either. Though I have no doubt that Timothy will improve as he grows older."
"You are an unnatural parent, Sir Adrian."
"I am afraid I must be."
"And you don't think that any danger threatens Jim?"
"Extremely unlikely, I should imagine. From what I have heard of it—but I am lamentably ignorant on such matters—it does not seem to me that the proposed expansion of the business in Australia is of sufficient moment to provide a motive for three murders. There is, however, another possibility that occurs to me."
"Yes? Please tell me what it is!"
"No, I don't think I will do that," he replied. "It is a mere supposition which a very little investigation may easily disprove. I will have a talk with the superintendent from Scotland Yard tomorrow. That reminds me: I must request the butler to ring up the police station the first thing in the morning."
"If you'll give me the message I'll pass it on to Pritchard, Sir Adrian. That's part of my job, you know."
"That would be very kind of you. If you would tell the butler to inform the station sergeant that I should be obliged if Superintendent—I do not know his name, but perhaps you can supply that—would call at Cliff House some time during the course of the day, I should be most grateful."
She could not help laughing. "I will, of course; but when I think how terrified most of us are of these grim policemen, it seems positively asking for trouble calmly to summon them here!"
"Oh no, I hardly think so!" he replied gently.
"Well, anyway, it's a superb gesture," she said. "The rest of us, if we wanted to see the superintendent, would probably crawl humbly down to the police station and beg an audience."
He looked rather surprised. Miss Allison confided later to Jim Kane that intercourse with his stepfather made her feel that Clement's murder and her own fears were social solecisms.
"Oh, he thinks they are!" said Jim. "The whole thing is in very bad taste."
"Are you fond of him, Jim?"
"Very."
"Does he like you?"
"I think so. Why?"
"I only wondered. He seems such a withdrawn person. Still, it was nice of him to come down. What do you suppose he wants to see the superintendent for?"
"I haven't a notion. However, I'm all for it. He definitely adds tone to the proceedings. Obviously no member of his entourage would be vulgar enough to commit a murder."
"If the superintendent has a grain of sense, it won't be necessary for him to see your stepfather to realise that you couldn't possibly have done it," said Miss Allison stoutly.
Whatever the superintendent felt about it, Sergeant Hemingway quite agreed with her. "You've got to take psychology into account, Chief," he said. "To my way of thinking, a nice young fellow like James Kane doesn't waltz about murdering his relations."
"I agree; but there's also the question of motive to be taken into account. He had more than anyone else."
"Too much," said the sergeant briskly. "He's what I might call dripping with motive. I've a strong idea, myself, that what we want to look for is something a bit more recherchй . This isn't one of your clumsy, hit-you-in-the-eye murders. It's got class. Who's this Sir Adrian What's-his-name that wants to see you?"
"Your young friend's father, I imagine."
"What, Terrible Timothy? You don't say! Well, if he's half the turn his son is, you ought to have a lively morning of it, Super."
Superintendent Hannasyde, however, was unable to detect much resemblance between Timothy and his father.
He went up to Cliff House shortly after eleven o'clock and encountered Timothy in the porch. He bade him a pleasant good morning but received a gloomy, though civil response. "You don't look very cheerful," he remarked. "I hope you haven't mislaid a clue?"
Timothy acknowledged this poor jest with a perfunctory smile and replied with cold dignity that no one could be expected to look cheerful with people simply being rottenly selfish the whole time.
"No, it certainly must be very difficult for you," agreed Hannasyde.
"It isn't that I care two hoots, because actually I don't particularly want to go out in any rotten motorboat," said Timothy bitterly. "Only, considering I asked first, I think it's pretty mean of Jim to take Patricia, that's all."
Superintendent Hannasyde, who had a mind trained to grapple with elusive problems, was able fairly accurately to guess the cause of Mr. Harte's discontent. He replied suitably; but said that in his opinion jaunts upon the sea for one engaged in solving a mystery would be a waste of time. "Is your stepbrother out now, then?" he inquired.
"Yes, and I should jolly well laugh if Patricia was seasick!" said Mr. Harte. "I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she was, either."
Pritchard came to the door in answer to the superintendent's ring at this moment, so Hannasyde parted from Mr. Harte, docketing in his brain the fact that Mr. James Kane, possible murderer, was apparently feeling carefree enough to disport himself in a motorboat with his fiancйe.
Sir Adrian Harte received the superintendent in the library. He screwed his monocle into his eye, favoured Hannasyde with one of his calm, aloof glances, and said, "Ah, good morning, Superintendent! Sit down, won't you?"
Hannasyde took a chair. "Good morning, sir. You are Mr. James Kane's stepfather, I understand? You wanted to see me?"
"I did, yes." Sir Adrian sat down, hitching his beautifully pressed trousers carefully at the knee. "There is an aspect to this extremely unpleasant affair which I should like to discuss with you. I did not know if you are aware of it, but a gentleman of the name of Roberts has seen fit to warn my stepson that he may shortly figure in this case as the third victim."
"No, I didn't know that, sir," Hannasyde replied, not taking his eyes from Sir Adrian's face.
"So I had supposed. What Mr. Roberts' reason is for uttering this somewhat dramatic warning I am unable to tell you. But it seems to me highly undesirable that any unnecessary mystery should attach to the case."
"Highly undesirable," corroborated Hannasyde with emphasis. "Did Mr. Roberts tell Mr. Kane whom he suspected of wanting to murder him?"
"I gather that he threw out a hint—ah, a sufficiently broad hint, Superintendent!—that the Mansells would not allow my stepson to stand in the way of their schemes."
Hannasyde's brows drew together. "I take it you refer to the Australian scheme, sir? Did Mr. Roberts utter this warning by way of threat?"
"Far from it. According to my stepson, he seemed genuinely disturbed to think that he might have been the unwitting cause of the two other deaths."
Hannasyde said slowly: "Yes, he said as much to me. I think it a trifle farfetched, sir."
"I agree with you. But a point occurred to me which might perhaps be investigated with advantage. I am not familiar with the exact terms of Matthew Kane's will, but no doubt you have gone into it." He paused, took his monocle out of his eye, polished it, and replaced it. "In the event of my stepson's death, Superintendent, who inherits his share of the business?"
Hannasyde nodded, as though he had expected this question. "Mrs. Leighton would inherit it, sir."
"You are sure of that? It would not, by any chance, failing a male heir, go to the other two partners?"
"No, certainly not."
Sir Adrian frowned a little. "Ah! Yet if the Mansells wished to acquire complete control over the business, I imagine a lady would not be as hard for them to handle as my stepson might be. She might even agree to being bought out. My stepson tells me that he informed Paul Mansell that he had no desire to be bought out."
"Oh! Mansell actually suggested that, did he? That's interesting. Does Mr. Kane attach much weight to Mr. Roberts' warning?"
"Oh, not undue weight, I think. He has a certain value for my opinion," said Sir Adrian placidly.
"What is your opinion, sir, if I may ask?"
"I think it most improbable that anyone should have the courage to attempt a murder under your nose, Superintendent."
"It would take some nerve," admitted Hannasyde. "Still, I'm glad you have told me all this, sir."
"It is always well to be on the safe side," said Sir Adrian, getting up.
Hannasyde looked at him under his brows. "Do you want me to give your stepson police protection, sir?"
"That I leave entirely to you, Superintendent. I hardly think it should be necessary."
Hannasyde rose. "Well, I can promise you that the matter will have my very careful consideration, sir. Is that all you wished to say to me?"
"Yes, I think so, thank you," replied Sir Adrian, walking over to the door.
Hannasyde went out before him into the hall and bent to pick up his hat from the chair on which he had laid it. As he did so, he was startled by the sound of an eldritch shriek proceeding from the direction of the front drive. He jerked himself upright; but Sir Adrian, wholly unperturbed, merely raised his eyebrows and murmured: "My son, I fancy."
Mr. Harte's voice, raised to a pitch of delirious excitement, floated clearly to Hannasyde's ears. "Mum!" screamed Mr. Harte.
Sir Adrian stood perfectly still for a moment. Hannasyde thought he seemed to stiffen. Then he said tranquilly: "And apparently my wife also."