"My name is Greville Seton."
Inspector Kerry glanced back across his shoulder.
"Notes," he said. "Unlock your ears, Coombes." He looked at Gray. "What
is your name?"
"Quentin Gray."
"Who are you, and in what way are you concerned in this case?"
"I am the son of Lord Wrexborough, and I--"
He paused, glancing helplessly at Seton. He had recognized that the
first mention of Rita Irvin's name in the police evidence must be made
by himself.
"Speak up, sir," snapped Kerry. "Sergeant Coombes is deaf."
Gray's face flushed, and his eyes gleamed angrily.
"I should be glad, Inspector," he said, "if you would remember that
the dead man was a personal acquaintance and that other friends are
concerned in this ghastly affair."
"Coombes will remember it," replied Kerry frigidly. "He's taking
notes."
"Look here--" began Gray.
Seton laid his hand upon the angry man's shoulder.
"Pull up, Gray," he said quietly. "Pull up, old chap." He turned his
cool regard upon Chief Inspector Kerry, twirling the cord of his
monocle about one finger. "I may remark, Inspector Kerry--for I
understand this to be your name--that your conduct of the inquiry is
not always characterised by the best possible taste."
Kerry rolled chewing-gum, meeting Seton's gaze with a stare intolerant
and aggressive.
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