Woodthorpe hesitated. “I don’t know. In some things, damnably! In others, very much the reverse.”
Roger nodded as if satisfied. “Yes, that’s just what I imagined.—All right, carry on, Inspector. Sorry to have interrupted you.”
Chapter XII.
Real Bad Blood
“Well?” Roger asked, as the two of them walked down the drive again half-an-hour or so later. “Well, what did you make of that young man, Inspector?”
“A very nice young gentleman, I thought,” returned the inspector guardedly. “What did you, Mr. Sheringham, sir?”
“I thought the same as you,” Roger replied innocently.
“Um!” observed the inspector.
There was a little silence.
“You brought out your deductions from the wording of that note very pat and cleverly,” Roger remarked.
“Ah!” said the inspector.