“She's a Mrs. Jackson, a widow with no children, and she lives just behind the Black Swan. Her husband was employed on the railway, and she has a small pension.”
“Well, I won't go now,” said Larose. “I'll go after dark tonight.” He smiled. “If I find she's told Chime. I may not have to bring you in at all.”
The rector looked relieved. “But it was my duty to tell you,” he said.
“Of course it was,” replied Larose. “You need have no regrets about that.” Larose left the church by himself and driving off in his car, sighed heavily. “What a mix up! It seems there was a whole crowd of people hovering about Toller that night, and if this Marriott girl was the one who shot him, then it would, in part, account for the doctor's subsequent actions, too. She might have disclosed to him who her betra
