“Ah, well, we shall see. Now, Mr. Camber, your attention, please.”
He raised his finger impressively.
“I am informed by Miss Beverley that the late Colonel Menendez looked upon you as a dangerous enemy.”
“Were those her exact words?” I murmured.
“Mr. Knox!”
The inspector turned rapidly, confronting me. “I have already warned your friend. But if I have any interruptions from you, I will have you removed.”
He continued to glare at me for some moments, and then, turning again to Colin Camber:
“I say, I have information that Colonel Menendez looked upon you as a dangerous neighbour.”
“In that event,” replied Colin Camber, “why did he lease an adjoining property?”
“That’s an evasion, sir. Answer my first question, if you please.”
“You have asked me no question, Inspector.”
“Oh, I see. That’s your attitude, is it? Very well, then. Were you, or were you not, an enemy of the late Colonel Menendez?”
“I was.”
“What’s that?”
“I say I was. I hated him, and I hate him no less in death than I hated him living.”
I think that I had never seen a man so taken aback. Inspector Aylesbury, drawing out a large handkerchief blew his nose. Replacing the handkerchief, he produced a note-book.
“I am placing that statement on record, sir,” he said.
He made an entry in the book, and then:
