“Let us walk across the Park at least,” he said to Ann Veronica. E. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. I am suspected of having shot the man. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. For a long time she surveyed a row of towering holly-hocks, as though they offered an explanation. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. I want to give you warning that I have set myself to solve it.
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