‘Oh my goodness gracious, that is the most terrible news, I can hardly believe it. Poor girl!’ exclaimed Arthur Digby-Curtis, the Principal of the College of Arts and Crafts, as Yarrow and Harding gave him the grim news of Selena Kirkham’s death. ‘And murdered you say, what is the world coming to?’
The college principal was not an imposing figure, Harding thought as he studied the elderly principal. He must be approaching retirement age or even past retirement.
Digby-Curtis was tall but stooped, paunchy, with narrow shoulders, virtually bald apart from a froth of white hair about his collar, a collar liberally bespeckled with dandruff and when he spoke, which he did with an affected upper-class accent, Harding could see a mouthful of yellow misaligned teeth much like a tumbledown graveya
