Interesting thing, heredity.
Take the de Haviland ruthlessness, and what we might call the Leonides's unscrupulousness - the de Havilands are all right because they're not unscrupulous, and the Leonides are all right because, though unscrupulous, they are kindly - but get a descendant who inherited both of those traits - see what I mean?"
I had not thought of it quite in those terms.
My father said: "But I shouldn't worry your head about heredity. It's much too tricky and complicated a subject.
No, my boy, go down there and let them talk to you.
Your Sophia is quite right about one thing. Nothing but the truth is going to be any good to her or to you.
You've got to know." He added as I went out of the room: "And be careful of the child."
"Josephine?
You mean don't let on to her what I'm up to."
"No, I didn't mean that. I meant - look after her.
We don't want anything to happen to her."
I stared at him.
"Come, come, Charles.
There's a cold blooded killer somewhere in that household.
The child Josephine appears to know most of what goes on."
"She certainly knew all about Roger - even if she did leap to the conclusion that he was a swindler.
Her account of what she overheard seems to have been quite accurate."
"Yes, yes.
Child's evidence is always the best evidence there is.
I'd rely on it every time.
No good in court, of course.
Children can't stand being asked direct questions. They mumble or else look idiotic and say they don't know.
They're at their best when they're showing off.
That's what the child was doing to you. Showing off.
You'll get more out of her in the same way.
Don't go asking her questions.
Pretend you think she doesn't know anything.
That'll fetch her." He added: "But take care of her.
She may know a little too much for somebody's safety."
Chapter 13
I went down to the Crooked House (as I called it in my own mind) with a slightly guilty feeling.
Though I had repeated to Taverner Josephine's confidences about Roger, I had said nothing about her statement that Brenda and Laurence Brown wrote love letters to each other.
I excused myself by pretending that it was mere romancing, and that there was no reason to believe that it was true.
But actually I had felt a strange reluctance to pile up additional evidence against Brenda Leonides.
I had been affected by the pathos of her position in the house - surrounded by a hostile family united solidly against her.
If such letters existed doubtless Taverner and his myrmidons would find them.
I disliked to be the means of bringing fresh suspicion on a woman in a difficult position.
Moreover, she had assured me solemnly that there was nothing of that kind between her and Laurence and I felt more inclined to believe her than to believe that malicious gnome Josephine.
Had not Brenda said herself that Josephine was 'not all there.'
I stifled an uneasy certainty that Josephine was very much all there.
I remembered the intelligence of her beady black eyes.
I had rung up Sophia and asked if I might come down again.
"Please do, Charles."
"How are things going?"
"I don't know.
All right.
They keep on searching the house.
What are they looking for?"
"I've no idea."
"We're all getting very nervy.