She would not let her move. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. “I can only repeat what I said before,” she declared. She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. “But, of course, she may have come from one of the other flats. A pretty name for a pretty girl.
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