And the inspector replied, surprisingly: “Oh, I heard yesterday morning!” He may have felt tempted to bite his tongue out immediately afterward, but indubitably that is what Inspector Moresby replied.
“You did?” squeaked Roger. “Inspector, you—you taciturn devil!”
The inspector applied himself to such small remnants of beer as were still to be found at the bottom of his tankard. “Perhaps it was about time for me to be a little more taciturn than I have been sometimes,” he remarked with ominous application from its depths.
“But I’ve grovelled about that,” Roger said eagerly. “Simply grovelled. Also I’ve explained it all away. Nothing like that will ever occur again.—Inspector, you—you are going to tell me what Sir Henry said, aren’t you?”
The inspector, having arrived at the regretful conclusion that his tankard really was empty this time, replaced it on the table. “No, Mr. Sheringham, sir,” he said with a good deal of firmness. “I’m not.”
“Oh, you are!” Roger wailed. “Don’t you remember? Think again. You—you are, really.”
“I’m really not,” retorted the inspector still more firmly.
They eyed one another in silence.
“Have some more beer!” said Roger helpfully.
“Are you trying to bribe me, sir?” asked the inspector sternly.