“You want my name and address? Rosamund Anne Darnley. I carry on a dressmaking business under the name of Rose Mond Ltd at 622 Brook Street.”
“Thank you, Miss Darnley. Now can you tell us anything that may help us?”
“I don’t really think I can.”
“Your own movements—”
“I had breakfast about nine thirty. Then I went up to my room and collected some books and my sunshade and went out to Sunny Ledge. That must have been about twenty-five past ten. I came back to the hotel about ten minutes to twelve, went up and got my tennis racquet and went out to the tennis courts, where I played tennis until lunchtime.”
“You were in the cliff recess, called by the hotel Sunny Ledge, from about half past ten until ten minutes to twelve?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Mrs. Marshall at all this morning?”
“No.”
“Did you see her from the cliff as she paddled her float round to Pixy Cove?”
“No, she must have gone by before I got there.”
“Did you notice anyone on a float or in a boat at all this morning?”
“No, I don’t think I did. You see, I was reading. Of course I looked up from my book from time to time, but as it happened the sea was quite bare each time I did so.”
“You didn’t even notice Mr. Redfern and Miss Brewster when they went round?”
“No.”
“You were, I think, acquainted with Mr. Marshall?”
“Captain Marshall is an old family friend. His family and mine lived next door to each other. I had not seen him, however, for a good many years—it must be something like twelve years.”
“And Mrs. Marshall?”
“I’d never exchanged half a dozen words with her until I met her here.”
“Were Captain and Mrs. Marshall, as far as you knew, on good terms with each other?”
“On perfectly good terms, I should say.”
“Was Captain Marshall very devoted to his wife?”
Rosamund said:
“He may have been. I can’t really tell you anything about that. Captain Marshall is rather old-fashioned—he hasn’t got the modern habit of shouting matrimonial woes upon the housetop.”
“Did you like Mrs. Marshall, Miss Darnley?”
“No.”
The monosyllable came quietly and evenly. It sounded what it was—a simple statement of fact.
“Why was that?”
A half smile came to Rosamund’s lips. She said:
“Surely you’ve discovered that Arlena Marshall was not popular with her own sex? She was bored to death with women and showed it. Nevertheless I should like to have had the dressing of her. She had a great gift for clothes. Her clothes were always just right and she wore them well. I should like to have had her as a client.”