"No, I'm not; I'm coming to it; but I'm naturally a slow man--slow and sure. It's happened on occasions that I've been a long time taking aim; but then I never miss; and I never do anything definite--anything definite, mind--or say anything definite (which is what I'm going to say now), without a motive. Now, do you understand that?" No voice could be more persuasive than that in which he explained himself to Mr. Rawdon.
"Oh, I understand it," said that individual.
"And so could a blind dog, if it was put to him forcible. It eases my mind; I give you my word, it eases my mind. Pay particular attention to the question, Mr. Rawdon: there's a lot hanging to it that the present company--my friend Inspector Robson and his good wife, and my friend Mr. Reginald Boyd and his good wife--haven't the slightest understanding of. Which makes it all the more comfortable for you and me, because it's between us. Are you ready, Mr. Rawdon?"
"Quite ready, Mr. Lambert."
"Well, then. What is the amount of the judgment obtained against you by Mr. Ezra Lynn, how much do you owe him altogether, and what arrangement has lately been made between you? And if that's three questions instead of one I hope you'll excuse me."
So saying, Detective Lambert rubbed his chin, and shed a genial smile upon Mr. Rawdon, whose perturbation was so great that he seemed to be deprived of the power of speech.
"If you want time to chew it over," continued Lambert, "take time. There's been many a knotty point raised in this inquiry into the Catchpole Square Mystery; one or two more or less won't matter much. Take your time, Mr. Rawdon, take your time. Go home and chew it over."
In obedience to a motion of his eyebrows imperceptible to all but the constable, that official bustled forward with his "Move on, please, move on"; and as though he were glad of an excuse to set his limbs in motion Mr. Rawdon moved slowly away, in the opposite direction to the Bishop Street Police Station. The other person, little Gracie, who had been watching the group, moved stealthily after him, and in a moment or two the man and the girl had turned the corner of the street.
Lambert smiled in self-approval, and the next moment became grave as he touched Reginald on the arm. "Now, Mr. Boyd."
Florence quivered as though she had been stung, but instantly recovered herself.