Ernest paid no attention to him. He seemed to be quite thunderstruck, now that the news had penetrated his mind. At last he roused himself sufficiently to ask for some details, to which he listened with a sort of heavy interest. “And they were killed by poisoned darts, you say? And I’ve got a nail in my boot myself. I might get blood-poisoning from it, if I’m not careful. I never thought of that till now.” Sir Clinton had allowed a decent interval to elapse before entering the conversation; but he now glanced at his watch and put a question. “Can you tell us when you last saw your brothers alive, Mr. Shandon?” Ernest reflected for some moments as though trying to fix the time. Then he shook his head regretfully: “I’d arranged to go in the car with Sylvia—my niece, you know—but she said I was late and she hurried me off to get ready. I was a bit hustled at the last moment. But Sylvia could tell you, most likely. She’s always punctual and she’d remember when we left.” “It was just before I saw Mr. Neville Shandon look in that door that I heard your car leaving, Mr. Shandon,” Stenness volunteered. “That would be about ten minutes past three.” Ernest nodded vaguely. “I remember she sent me to put my boots on. That reminds me, my foot’s very sore. I hope it isn’t blood-poisoning.” Quite regardless of the company he began to unlace his boot and finally examined a slight tear in his sock. He was busily engaged in feeling inside his boot for the nail before he spoke again. “That nail came up just after Sylvia dropped me outside the grounds. I walked on for a bit, but it began to hurt. You know how a nail in your boot hurts? So I sat down for a bit by the roadside; and luckily the postman came along in his cart and gave me a lift after a while, or I don’t know what I’d have done. I’d nothing to hammer it flat with, you see.” He returned to an inspection of his foot. Sir Clinton glanced at his watch, and even his impassive face showed a trace of impatience. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shandon, but I must get some facts from you before I go. It’s essential, or I should not trouble you at this time.” Ernest looked up with a long-suffering expression. “Oh, ask any questions you please. If I can give any information you want, I’ll be glad to do it, quite glad. It’s a sad affair for me, for all of us. Anything I can do, of course. By the way, do you mind if I ring for tea? I’ve had nothing since lunch-time and I feel a bit tired. One misses one’s tea. It would brighten me up, I think.” Quite oblivious of the astonishment of the company he rang the bell and gave his order. “Now, Mr. Shandon, perhaps you’ll give me your attention. I understand that your family consisted of yourself, your two brothers, and the late Mrs. Hawkhurst, your sister. Am I right, or have you any relations except your nephew and niece?” Ernest blinked for a moment or two as if considering.