We will start with you." He took out a fountain pen. "Your name, please?"

"My name is Norman Fenwick." He pronounced it Fen-nick.

"Are you traveling alone?"

"No, I'm not. My sister is with me." He indicated a colorless, gray-haired woman. "Miss Laura Fenwick."

Duff wrote again. "Now tell me, do either of you know anything about last night's affair?"

Mr. Fenwick bristled. "Just what do you mean by that sir?"

"Come, come," the inspector protested. "I've a bit of a job here and no time to waste. Did you hear anything, see anything, or even sense anything that might have some bearing on the case?"

"Nothing, sir, and I can answer for my sister."

"Have you been out of the hotel this morning? Yes? Where?"

"We went for a stroll through the West End. A last look at London. We are both quite fond of the city. That's only natural, since we are of British origin--"

"Yes, yes. Pardon me, I must get on--"

"But one moment, Inspector. We desire to leave this party at once. At once, sir. I will not associate--"

"I have told you what you must do. That matter is settled."

"Very well, sir. I shall interview our ambassador. He's an old friend of my uncle's--"

"Interview him by all means," snapped Duff. "Who is next? Miss Pamela, we have had our chat. And Mrs. Spicer--I have seen you before. That gentleman next to you--"

The man answered for himself. "I am Stuart Vivian, of Del Monte, California." He was bronzed, lean, and would have been handsome had it not been for a deep scar across the right side of his forehead. "I must say that I'm quite in sympathy with Mr. Fenwick. Why should we be put under restraint in this affair? Myself, I was a complete stranger to the murdered man--I'd never even spoken to him. I don't know any of these others, either."

"With one exception," Duff reminded him.

"Ah--er--yes. With one exception."

"You took Mrs. Spicer to the theater last evening?"

"I did.