A Blunt Instrument by Georgette Heyer

getting us anywhere."
    A smile flickered in Neville's eyes. "Eschew my company. You see, I don't want to get anywhere. Prolonged intercourse with me is bad for your temper."
    "You are probably right," returned Hannasyde with a touch of asperity: "I won't detain you any longer."
    "Oh, can I go back to my entrancing reporters?"
    "If you think it wise - or desirable."
    "Like feeding goldfish," said Neville, drifting out by way of the window.
    The Sergeant watched him go, and drew a long breath. "What I call a turn in himself," he said. "He's certainly a new one on me."
    Hannasyde grunted. The Sergeant cocked an intelligent eye at him. "You didn't take to him, did you, Chief?"
    "No. Or believe him."
    "I'm bound to say I don't entirely follow his talk - what I can hear of it, which isn't much."
    "I think he knows more than he pretends, and doesn't want to be questioned. However, he'll keep. I've nothing on him - so far." He looked at his wrist-watch, and got up. "Take charge of those papers, and the photographs, will you? I'm going now to call on Mrs. North. I'll leave Abraham Budd to you. Find out from Headquarters, while you're in town, if they've got anything out of the finger-prints."
    He had no difficulty in finding his way to the Chestnuts, and, upon sending in his card, was ushered presently into a pleasant morning-room at the back of the house. There he found not only Helen North, but Miss Drew also, who was seated at a table in the window with a portable typewriter in front of her.
    Helen came forward a few steps, saying nervously: 'Good-morning. I'm Mrs. North. I understand you want to see me?"
    "Yes," Hannasyde replied. He glanced towards the window, and added: "Perhaps if I might have a word with you alone it would be best."
    "Oh no! I mean, I would like my sister to remain. Won't you sit down? I - I've never entertained a detective before!"
    "I should explain, Mrs. North, that I am investigating the murder of Ernest Fletcher, who I believe was an acquaintance of yours."
    "Yes. Yes, I quite understand. Please go on!"
    "You knew that Mr. Fletcher had been murdered?" he asked.
    Before she could answer, Sally cut in. "In common with the butcher, the baker, the milkman, all the servants, the postman, and the paper-boy."
    He looked at her appraisingly, but did not answer, merely inclining his head slightly.
    "News gets round so frightfully quickly in the suburbs," Helen said, again with her uneasy, artificial laugh.
    "Yes," he agreed. "I expect it does. When did you last see Mr. Fletcher, Mrs. North?"
    "What's your reason for asking that question?" demanded Sally.
    "I am investigating a murder, Miss -'
    "I'm Sally Drew. You can hardly think that my sister knows anything about a murder."
    "I'm quite ready to believe that she doesn't," he replied, with a good-humoured inflexion in his voice which surprised her. "But I have a reason for asking Mrs. North certain questions, and a right to do so."
    "Oh, of course!" Helen said quickly. "Only it's rather difficult to say when I saw Ernie Fletcher last. Let me see now… it was probably in town. Oh yes, we were both at a party last week!"
    "Are you quite sure that you haven't seen him since then?"
    He kept his eyes on her face, taking note of the fluctuating colour in her cheeks, the frightened, wary look in her eyes that told plainly of indecision.
    "Why, no, I - I don't think so!"
    "You did not, by any chance, see him last night?"
    "Last night?" Helen repeated. "Of course not! Whatever made you think I might have?"
    "I have reason to think that some woman visited him yesterday evening."
    "Good gracious, why should it be me, I wonder!"
    He said in his quiet way: "Please don't misunderstand me, Mrs. North. I am quite prepared to find that the woman was not you. Indeed, I'm sorry to be obliged to worry you with these questions. But I'm sure you'll realise that the presence of a woman at Greystones last night must be investigated, for it is just possible that she, whoever she is, may