“I—I don't mean to do anything else at present, thank you.”
John Steadman looked disappointed.
“Oh, well! Then there is no more to be said. Should you change your mind perhaps you will let us know,” he said politely.
When he had closed the door behind Cecily he looked across at the inspector.
“Well, you were right.”
“I was pretty sure of my ground,” returned the inspector. “What do you think of young Mr. Collyer's choice, Mr. Steadman?”
“Well, she looks a nice girl enough,” the barrister returned somewhat dubiously.
“It is easier to look nice than to be nice nowadays,” the inspector returned enigmatically. “What do you make of this, Mr. Steadman?” throwing a torn telegram form on the table. “And this, and this,” placing several odd pieces of writing paper beside it.
The barrister bent over them. The used telegraph form had been torn across and crumpled, but as the inspector smoothed it out the writing was perfectly legible.
“Do not mention home address. Father.”