“And what is that, M. Raymond?”

“As I say, it’s nothing of consequence⁠—just this. I was in debt⁠—badly, and that legacy came in the nick of time. Five hundred pounds puts me on my feet again with a little to spare.”

He smiled at us both with that engaging frankness that made him such a likeable youngster.

“You know how it is. Suspicious-looking policemen⁠—don’t like to admit you were hard up for money⁠—think it will look bad to them. But I was a fool, really, because Blunt and I were in the billiard room from a quarter to ten onwards, so I’ve got a watertight alibi and nothing to fear. Still, when you thundered out that stuff about concealing things, I felt a nasty prick of conscience, and I thought I’d like to get it off my mind.”

He got up again and stood smiling at us.