“That’s right. That’s me all over. Can be led, not driven. A palmist told me that not so very long ago. No. I’m not one to sit down and be bullied. And I’ve made it clear all along to Dr. Stone that I must have my regular times off. These scientific gentlemen, they think a girl’s a kind of machine—half the time they just don’t notice her or remember she’s there.”
“Do you find Dr. Stone pleasant to work with? It must be an interesting job if you are interested in archaeology.”
“Of course, I don’t know much about it,” confessed the girl. “It still seems to me that digging up people that are dead and have been dead for hundreds of years isn’t—well, it seems a bit nosy, doesn’t it? And there’s Dr. Stone so wrapped up in it all, that half the time he’d forget his meals if it wasn’t for me.”
“Is he at the barrow this morning?” asked Griselda.
Miss Cram shook her head.
“A bit under the weather this morning,” she explained. “Not up to doing any work. That means a holiday for little Gladys.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Oh! It’s nothing much. There’s not going to be a second death. But do tell me, Mr. Clement, I hear you’ve been with the police all morning. What do they think?”
“Well,” I said slowly, “there is still a little—uncertainty.”
“Ah!” cried Miss Cram. “Then they don’t think it is Mr. Lawrence Redding after all. So handsome, isn’t he? Just like a movie star. And such a nice smile when he says good morning to you. I really couldn’t believe my ears when I heard the police had arrested him. Still, one has always heard they’re very stupid—the county police.”