I was summoned to the study when Lawrence Redding arrived. He looked haggard, and, I thought, suspicious. Colonel Melchett greeted him with something approaching cordiality.
“We want to ask you a few questions—here, on the spot,” he said.
Lawrence sneered slightly.
“Isn’t that a French idea? Reconstruction of the crime?”
“My dear boy,” said Colonel Melchett, “don’t take that tone with us. Are you aware that someone else has also confessed to committing the crime which you pretend to have committed?”
The effect of these words on Lawrence was painful and immediate.
“S‑s‑omeone else?” he stammered. “Who—who?”
“ Mrs. Protheroe,” said Colonel Melchett, watching him.
“Absurd. She never did it. She couldn’t have. It’s impossible.”
Melchett interrupted him.
“Strangely enough, we did not believe her story. Neither, I may say, do we believe yours. Dr. Haydock says positively that the murder could not have been committed at the time you say it was.”
“ Dr. Haydock says that?”
“Yes, so, you see, you are cleared whether you like it or not. And now we want you to help us, to tell us exactly what occurred.”