‘Was it?’ observed Nolan quietly. ‘I am glad. Of course, now that you have found out everything——’
He drew up standing in the road. His voice showed that Richard had made some little impression on that great man from Scotland Yard.
‘Admit first,’ said Richard, his eyes twinkling through the gold-rimmed spectacles, ‘that you were guilty of the grossest indiscretion—not to say stupidity—in leaving Goron’s Memoirs, a yellow-covered French book, lying about the harness-room—you, an Irish labourer.’
‘I admit that in that matter I was an inconceivable ass,’ said Nolan cheerfully.
‘Good!’ said Richard; ‘you shall have your reward.’
Then Richard told him all that he had learnt from the lips of Raphael Craig. There was a silence when he had finished.
‘Yes,’ said Nolan, ‘it’s rather an impressive story; it impresses even me. But do you believe it?’
‘I believe what Craig told me. If he lied, he is the finest actor I ever saw.’
‘Listen,’ said Nolan. ‘Does this tale of Craig’s explain his daughter’s visit to Bosco’s circus and her chat with Juana, and her unblushing fibs to you afterwards?’
‘How did you hear about that?’ questioned Richard savagely.