Susan said: "But if they find the man who did it -"

"Oh then, of course, it will be quite all right. But will they find him? I don't think, myself, the police have the least idea. And if he's not caught - well, that leaves me as - as not quite the most likely person, but as a person who could have done it."

Susan nodded thoughtfully. It was true that Miss Gilchrist did not benefit from Cora Lansquenet's death but who was to know that? And besides, there were so many tales - ugly tales - of animosity arising between women who lived together - strange pathological motives for sudden violence. Someone who had not known them might imagine that Cora Lansquenet and Miss Gilchrist had lived on those terms...

Susan spoke with her usual decision.

"Don't worry, Miss Gilchrist," she said, speaking briskly and cheerfully. "I'm sure I can find you a post amongst my friends. There won't be the least difficulty."

"I'm afraid, said Miss Gilchrist, regaining some of her customary manner, "that I couldn't undertake any really rough work. Just a little plain cooking and housework -"

The telephone rang and Miss Gilchrist jumped.

"Dear me, I wonder who that can be."

"I expect it's my husband," said Susan, jumping up. "He said he'd ring me tonight."

She went to the telephone.

"Yes? - yes, this is Mrs Banks speaking personally..."

There was a pause and then her voice changed. It became soft and warm. "Hallo, darling - yes, it's me... Oh, quite well... Murder by someone unknown... the usual thing... Only Mr Entwhistle... What?... it's difficult to say, but I think so... Yes, just as we thought... Absolutely according to plan... I shall sell the stuff. There's nothing we'd want... Not for a day or two... Absolutely frightful... Don't fuss. I know what I'm doing... Greg, you didn't... You were careful to... No, it's nothing. Nothing at all. Good night, darling."

She rang off. The nearness of Miss Gilchrist had hampered her a little. Miss Gilchrist could probably hear from the kitchen, where she had tactfully retired, exactly what went on. There were things she had wanted to ask Greg, but she hadn't liked to.

She stood by the telephone, frowning abstractedly. Then suddenly an idea came to her.

"Of course," she murmured. "Just the thing."

Lifting the receiver she asked for Trunk Enquiry.

Some quarter of an hour later a weary voice from the exchange was saying:

"I'm afraid there's no reply."

"Please go on ringing them."

Susan spoke autocratically. She listened to the far off buzzing of a telephone bell. Then, suddenly it was interrupted and a man's voice, peevish and slightly indignant, said:

"Yes, yes, what is it?"

"Uncle Timothy?"

"What's that? I can't hear you."

"Uncle Timothy? I'm Susan Banks."

"Susan who?"

"Banks. Formerly Abernethie. Your niece Susan."

"Oh, you're Susan, are you? What's the matter? What are you ringing up for at this time of night?"

"It's quite early still."