‘No.’
Stephen said, ‘Must have been rather an unpleasant business for you.’
‘Well, I didn’t exactly enjoy it. But it wasn’t too devastating. The coroner was quite decent.’
Stephen slashed absent-mindedly at the hedge.
‘I say, Venetia, any idea—have you, I mean—as to who did it?’
Venetia Kerr shook her head slowly.
‘No.’ She paused a minute, seeking how best and most tactfully to put into words what she wanted to say. She achieved it at last with a little laugh. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t Cicely or me. That I do know. She’d have spotted me and I’d have spotted her.’
Stephen laughed too.
‘That’s all right, then,’ he said cheerfully.
He passed it off as a joke, but she heard the relief in his voice. So he had been thinking—
She switched her thoughts away.
‘Venetia,’ said Stephen, ‘I’ve known you a long time, haven’t I?’
‘H’m, yes. Do you remember those awful dancing classes we used to go to as children?’
‘Do I not? I feel I can say things to you—’
‘Of course you can.’ She hesitated, then went on in a calm, matter-of-fact tone: ‘It’s Cicely, I suppose?’
‘Yes. Look here, Venetia. Was Cicely mixed up with this woman Giselle in any way?’
Venetia answered slowly.
‘I don’t know. I’ve been in the South of France, remember. I haven’t heard the Le Pinet gossip yet.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Well, candidly, I shouldn’t be surprised.’
Stephen nodded thoughtfully. Venetia said gently:
‘Need it worry you? I mean you live pretty semi-detached lives, don’t you? This business is her affair, not yours.’
‘As long as she’s my wife, it’s bound to be my business too.’
‘Can’t you—er—agree to a divorce?’
‘A trumped-up business, you mean? I doubt if she’d accept it.’
‘Would you divorce her if you had the chance?’
‘If I had a cause I certainly would.’
He spoke grimly.
‘I suppose,’ said Venetia thoughtfully, ‘she knows that.’
‘Yes.’