“It could be a long trial, you know,” he said presently. “She might get away with it on the medico’s evidence of Toberman’s first waking words. I can just hear Sir Cunningham cross-examining Mrs. Broome about what she saw on the landing, can’t you? That’ll be murder, if you like!”
Mr. Campion was still standing by the table, looking into the limpid mahogany.
“The world is certainly going to hear about the Kinnit family and their governesses, alas!” he said at last. “No one on earth can prevent that now, I’m afraid. There’ll be no more hushing up Miss Thyrza. She’s out of the grave. She wins after all.”
“Murder doesn’t hush,” Luke had moved over to the doorway. “My old copy-book was dead right. Murder will out. There’s something damn funny about it. The desire to pinpoint the blame gets
