Free A Blunt Instrument by Georgette Heyer

mine!" she flung at him.
    Sally gave a groan. "How not to break the news!" she said. "For God's sake, try to stop looking like something carved out of the solid rock, John! Holy mackerel, to think I've written books about people like you, and never believed a word of it!"
    North disregarded her, addressing his wife. "No doubt I shall seem to you unwarrantably intrusive, but I should like to know why you visited Fletcher in this apparently clandestine fashion?"
    "I went to see him because he's - he was - a friend of mine. There was nothing clandestine about our relations. I don't expect you to believe that, but it's true!"
    Sally polished her eyeglass. "Questioned, Miss Sally Drew, an eminent writer of detective fiction, corroborated that statement."
    "You are a somewhat partial witness, Sally," North said dryly. "Oh, don't look so belligerent, Helen! I merely asked out of curiosity. It's really quite beside the point. What seems to me to be more important is what, if anything, you know about the murder?"
    "Nothing, nothing!"
    "When were you with Fletcher?" he asked.
    "Oh, early, quite early! I left his study at a quarter to ten. John, I know it sounds strange, but I went to see him on a perfectly trivial matter. I - I wanted to know if he'd go with me to the Dimberleys' affair next week, that's all."
    He paid no heed to this, but picked up the newspaper and studied the front page. "I see that Fletcher's body was discovered at 10.05 p.m.," he remarked. He looked steadily across at his wife. "And you know nothing?"
    "I saw a man come up the path," she said in a low voice. "That's why I hid behind the bush."
    He folded the newspaper very exactly. "You saw a man come up the path? Well? Who was it?"
    "I don't know."
    "Do you mean you didn't recognise him?"
    "Yes - that is, I couldn't see him distinctly. I - I only know that he went into the study, through the window."
    "Have you told the police this?"
    "Yes, I - I told them."
    "Did the Superintendent ask you if you would be able to recognise this mysterious man if you saw him again?"
    "No. I told him that I couldn't see at all clearly, and only had a vague impression of an ordinary sort of man in a light hat."
    There was a slight pause. "In a light hat? Oh! And would you recognise him again?"
    "No, I tell you! I haven't the least idea who it was!"
    "I hope the Superintendent believed you," he remarked.
    "Why?" demanded Sally, who had been watching him closely.
    He glanced indifferently down at her. "Why? Because I have no desire to see my wife in the witness-box, of course."
    "Oh, my God, I shan't have to give evidence, shall I?" gasped Helen. "I couldn't. I'd rather die! Oh, what a ghastly mess it all is!"
    "It is indeed," he said.
    Sally, who had been rhythmically swinging her monocle on the end of its cord, suddenly screwed it into her eye, and asked: "Does the Superintendent suspect you of having had anything to do with it, John?"
    "I've no idea what he suspects. Helen's connection with the crime has evidently given him food for thought. He probably suffers from old-fashioned ideas about jealous husbands."
    She cocked her head on one side. "I should have thought you were capable of being a trifle primitive. What's more, your somewhat unexpected appearance on the scene must look a bit fishy to him."
    "Why should it? If I'd murdered Fletcher I should hardly have come down here today."
    She considered this dispassionately. "Dunno. It's a point, of course, but it would have looked bad if you'd lain low, and he'd found out that you weren't in Berlin at all."
    "Give me credit for a little common sense, Sally. When I commit a murder I can assure you I shall take good care to cover my tracks." He glanced at his wrist-watch. "Ask them to put lunch forward, will you, Helen? I've got to go back to town."
    "I'll go and tell Evans," offered Sally, and went out, firmly shutting the door behind her.
    Helen mechanically straightened an ornament on the mantelpiece. "Are you - are you coming