“We’ll see,” Watters said. He thought that Robertson looked defiant rather than frightened or guilty. “Now, tell me about Peter Neilson.”
Robertson frowned. “Mr Neilson? He comes to play cards with Mr and Mrs Grant.”
“Did they get along well?”
“Aye, well enough,” Robertson said. “I never played cards with them, but they seemed all right together.”
“Is Mr Neilson a tall man?”
“Neilson?” Robertson shook her head again. “No. He’s a shilpit wee nothing of a man.”
“Was he ever in the back garden?”
Robertson looked puzzled. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Thank you, Miss Robertson. I might wish to speak to you again.” He watched as Robertson walked away.
Scuddamore entered the kitchen immediately.
“Well, Scuddamore, what did you find out?”
“Young Robertson became the maid about six months
