“Then can you tell us, Mrs. Protheroe, just exactly where the vicar was in the room when you looked in?” asked Inspector Slack.
“The vicar? I—no, I’m afraid I can’t. I didn’t see him.”
Inspector Slack nodded.
“That’s how you didn’t see your husband. He was round the corner at the writing-desk.”
“Oh!” she paused. Suddenly her eyes grew round with horror. “It wasn’t there that—that—”
“Yes, Mrs. Protheroe. It was while he was sitting there.”
“Oh!” She quivered.
He went on with his questions.
“Did you know, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Redding had a pistol?”
“Yes. He told me so once.”
“Did you ever have that pistol in your possession?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Did you know where he kept it?”
“I’m not sure. I think—yes. I think I’ve seen it on a shelf in his cottage. Didn’t you keep it there, Lawrence?”
“When was the last time you were at the cottage, Mrs. Protheroe?”
“Oh! About three weeks ago. My husband and I had tea there with him.”