CHAPTER 30The interview with Cyril Felton produced very little result. Regarded as a performance, Mr. Felton had profited by his rehearsal. It made the Inspector’s description sound just a little crude. The lack of interest was less obvious. There was no more than a single yawn, carefully suppressed and apologized for with a “Sorry—I was up most of the night.” Pressed as to how well he knew Helen Adrian, he assumed an agreeable frankness.
“Well, you know how it is—you knock up against people. We were in the same concert-party years ago, and we’ve come across each other at intervals on and off. Nothing much in it—always very good friends.”
March said, “Were you lovers?”
“Oh, come, sir!”
“Were you?”
“No. I give you my word of honour we weren’t.”
March wondered how much it was worth.
“
