The inspector gazed at him stolidly for a moment, enjoying his impatience. “Mrs. Russell’s, sir,” he said, and withdrew.
As the door closed Roger emitted a long whistle of astonishment. “Mrs. Russell’s! Good Lord, that’s an unexpected development. How on earth—? What do you make of that, Anthony?”
“Goodness knows,” said Anthony frankly.
Roger mused, helping himself abstractedly to gooseberry-pie and cream. “Well, I suppose it’ll fit in all right. I shall have to think that over.”
“Are you going to keep me in the dark too about the bird with the thumb-print?” Anthony asked.
“You?” Roger recalled himself from his meditations. “Oh, no. I’ve got to tell somebody or bust. Anthony, I’ve had a heartrending day. Man, woman and child, I’ve been cross-questioning them all till my throat, hardened as you might think it, nearly collapsed under the strain; and not a helpful word could I elicit. And then at the very last gasp, quite literally, a little child led me toward the light. I found an urchin who’d actually been on the spot and seen just what I wanted him to have seen.”
“Good egg!” quoth Anthony.
“I had a job to charm his information out of him, as his business on the cliffs (I never did discover what it was) seems to have been of an illicit nature; however, fearful oaths of secrecy and a couple of half-crowns did the trick. He was close to the top of the nearer flight of steps at half-past three that afternoon, apparently in hiding, and saw a man go down them and walk along the ledge. He is even prepared to swear, Anthony, that the man had a paper in his hand which didn’t seem to be folded quite like a newspaper and might well have been a copy of London Opinion.”
“Coo!” said Anthony. “And were you able to make out who the cove was?”
“There was no need to do that. The urchin very kindly supplied that information himself. Anthony, my lad, who do you think it was? Just about the very last person you’d expect.”