"I'll wait a reasonable time; I can't say more than that, because I shouldn't be surprised--and don't you be--if something happens that I can't call to mind has ever happened before in a murder inquest, and that is, that the jury will either give no verdict at all, or will give one that the Coroner will refuse to accept. There's a man among them who's bent upon having his own way, and that will stick out like grim death if he can't bring the others to his way of thinking. He's a kind of animal not often met with on juries, but there he is, and has to be reckoned with. A curious point, isn't it? But you can make up your mind to one thing. So far as justice is concerned there will be no dead lock. I've got hold of the reins, and I'll see to that."
Uncle Rob searched his mind for a clue, and did not find it. Lambert's voice was resolute and stern, and he was about to arrest a man to save whose life Uncle Rob would have laid down his own; and yet here he was unbosoming himself in a friendly and confiding way to the very person against whose happiness he was conspiring. It would have taken a wiser head than Uncle Rob's to solve the enigma. What Lambert said next did not help to make matters clearer.
"And don't take it too much to heart," he said, with a soothing pat on Uncle Rob's shoulder. "I know what I'm about, so don't take it too much to heart. It's the advice of a friend, Robson."
"There's cold comfort in it when the charge is murder, and a man's life is hanging to it," said Uncle Rob.
"Perhaps so, perhaps so, if you look at it only from the outside; but there's another view."
"What is it?"
"That's my secret. When I let it out you'll see what I'm driving at. I've done one or two things in my time, and this will be the climax." He smacked his lips with a relish, and repeated, "The climax. I put it to you, Robson, old man, whether it isn't better that the arrest should be made by a friendly hand than by the hand of a stranger? I'm not the only one who's itching to get the credit of clearing up a mystery that's set all London ringing; and we're not half done with it yet, not half done. It's a feather in one's cap to be mixed up with it." He rubbed his hands. "No wonder others are keen upon it, but there s only one man in England that's got his finger on the pulse of the mystery, and that's the man that's talking to you now, and taking you, in a manner of speaking, into his confidence."
"Ana that is why you are going to arrest my son-in-law," said Uncle Rob, rather bitterly.
"And that is why," said Lambert, cheerfully, "I am going to arrest your son-in-law on the charge of murdering his father, Mr. Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Before long you'll be shaking me by the hand, and thanking me for what I'm doing."
"Then you don't believe him guilty?" said Uncle Rob, eagerly.