Supposing that Miss Gilchrist, although it was unlikely, could throw any light on what Richard had said to Cora.

"I thought from what he said -" What had Richard said?

"I must see Miss Gilchrist at once," said Mr Entwhistle to himself.

III

Miss Gilchrist was a spare faded-looking woman with short, iron-grey hair. She had one of those indeterminate faces that women around fifty so often acquire.

She greeted Mr Entwhistle warmly.

"I'm so glad you have come, Mr Entwhistle. I really know so little about Mrs Lansquenet's family, and of course I've never, never had anything to do with a murder before. It's too dreadful!"

Mr Entwhistle felt quite sure that Miss Gilchrist had never before had anything to do with murder. Indeed, her reaction to it was very much that of his partner.

"One reads about them, of course," said Miss Gilchrist, relegating crimes to their proper sphere. "And even that I'm not very fond of doing. So sordid, most of them."

Following her into the sitting-room Mr Entwhistle was looking sharply about him. There was a strong smell of oil paint. The cottage was overcrowded, less by furniture, which was much as Inspector Morton had described it, than by pictures. The walls were covered with pictures, mostly very dark and dirty oil paintings. But there were water-colour sketches as well, and one or two still lifes. Smaller pictures were stacked on the window-seat.

"Mrs Lansquenet used to buy them at sales," Miss Gilchrist explained.

"It was a great interest to her, poor dear. She went to all the sales round about. Pictures go so cheap, nowadays, a mere song. She never paid more than a pound for any of them, sometimes only a few shillings, and there was a wonderful chance, she always said, of picking up something worth while. She used to say that this was an Italian Primitive that might be worth a lot of money."

Mr Entwhistle looked at the Italian Primitive pointed out to him dubiously. Cora, he reflected, had never really known anything about pictures. He'd eat his hat if any of these daubs were worth a five pound note!

"Of course," said Miss Gilchrist, noticing his expression, and quick to sense his reaction. "I don't know much myself, though my father was a painter - not a very successful one, I'm afraid. But I used to do water- colours myself as a girl and I heard a lot of talk about painting and that made it nice for Mrs Lansquenet to have someone she could talk to about painting and who'd understand. Poor dear soul, she cared so much about artistic things."

"You were fond of her?"

A foolish question, he told himself. Could she possibly answer "no"?

Cora, he thought, must have been a tiresome woman to live with.

"Oh yes," said Miss Gilchrist. "We got on very well together. In some ways, you know, Mrs Lansquenet was just like a child. She said anything that came into her head. I don't know that her judgment was always very good -"