have to be an inquest?”

 

Mr. Hammond gave a dry little cough and murmured, “Inevitable. Under the

circumstances,” in two short little barks.

 

“But surely Dr. Sheppard can arrange——”

 

“There are limits to my powers of arrangement,” I said dryly.

 

“If his death was an accident——”

 

“He was murdered, Mrs. Ackroyd,” I said brutally.

 

She gave a little cry.

 

“No theory of accident will hold water for a minute.”

 

Mrs. Ackroyd looked at me in distress. I had no patience with what I thought was

her silly fear of unpleasantness.

 

“If there’s an inquest, I—I shan’t have to answer questions and all that, shall

I?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know what will be necessary,” I answered. “I imagine Mr. Raymond will

take the brunt of it off you. He knows all the circumstances, and can give