G. D. H. Cole · Chapter 27 (2/2)

“My dear, whether we like it or not, we have to find the man who did this⁠—more than ever now that your stepfather is cleared. A man who was capable of these things is capable of anything, and I can’t bear the thought that you may be meeting him and regarding him as a friend.”

“All right, Bob. I agree that we have to get to the bottom of this. I’ll do my best. But I’m still sure you’re wrong.”

“That’s right, Joan, I only hope I am. But, while you’re seeing Marian, I will try to find out a few things about friend Woodman on my own.”

At this moment Marian Brooklyn was shown in. She came across most mornings, and spent a part of the day at Liskeard House, taking her share in looking after Sir Vernon. It was a relief to her to have something to do. It stopped her from just thinking day and night of what she had lost. Ellery had not seen her since the tragedy, and he felt shy and awkward now in the presence of her grief. At the end of a few minutes he took his leave and left Joan to do what she had promised.

It was not easy to come to the point. How could she, without rousing suspicions, ask Marian about Carter Woodman’s movements on the night of the murders? But, very soon, Marian gave her just the chance she needed, by saying that she and Helen had been alone together all the previous evening.

“Where was Carter?” she asked.

“He had to go out and see someone on business. He did not get back till we were just going to bed.”

“Sitting up late as usual, I suppose?”

“It was about twelve o’clock⁠—certainly not later. And you know I can’t sleep if I go to bed early.”

“I didn’t know Carter did business in the evenings. He always used to boast of keeping his evenings clear for enjoying himself.”

“Yes, and he had promised Helen to be in. But he said it was a very particular engagement. At some Club or other, I believe. He was seeing Sir John Bunnery about some legal business. When he came in he was dead tired, and went straight to bed.”

“Marian, do you like Carter?” Joan asked suddenly. “It seems funny I never asked you that before. I hate him.”

“My dear, you mustn’t say that. Of course I like him. I don’t mean I care for Carter like some other people; but of course I like him. Helen is a darling.”

“That means you don’t like him at all⁠—only you’re too nice to say so.”

“I do like him, Joan. At least, I mean I don’t dislike him.”

“He seems to leave Helen alone a great deal.”

“Far too much, and he’s often out until all hours.”

“He even went out again after the dinner here last Tuesday, didn’t he?”

“No, he didn’t that night. He went away to his room and wrote letters. But he didn’t go out again. I stayed with Helen till he came up to bed⁠—rather before twelve. But don’t talk about that horrible night.”

“I’m sorry, dear. I won’t again.”

And then they talked of other things, until Marian went in to sit a while with Sir Vernon. The doctor, who had been with him, saw Joan on his way out. Sir Vernon, he reported, was not yet out of immediate danger; but he was rallying wonderfully from the shock which he had sustained.