“Where does this Major Hornby hang out, sir?” questioned Roper.
“Don’t know at the moment, but Sir Charles Considine will let me know at once if I ask him. I think I will.”
Anthony and I were in the garden when the Inspector arrived. He looked worried and puzzled but determined.
“Good-afternoon, gentlemen, Sir Charles about and handy?”
Anthony looked at me. “Yes,” I said, “you’ll probably find him in the library.”
“Thank you.” He passed through into the house, and it was not for some days that I learned of the reason underlying his visit or what transpired at his interview with Sir Charles Considine. Our host, I imagine, was not too pleased at Baddeley’s reappearance. We had had a brief period of comparative quiet after the arrest of Webb and his wife, and Sir Charles was expecting to be left alone until the inquest. This advent of Baddeley disturbed him and brought back the sinister influences that he had been trying to forget.
“The address of Major Hornby? Of course you can have it! But surely, Inspector, you don’t harbor any suspicions against a gentleman of Major Hornby’s standing?”
“Not at all, Sir Charles,” replied Baddeley cheerfully. “I merely want a little more information from the Major on one particular point than he was able to give me when I saw him previously. That is all, sir.”
Sir Charles rummaged through his pigeonholes. “Major Hornby is a man of unimpeachable integrity, Baddeley—a British Officer—don’t forget—and—er—a gentleman. Here’s the address.” He turned a card over. Baddeley took it. “Melville’s Hotel, Canterbury,” he read.
“Thank you, Sir Charles. Please accept my sincere apologies for disturbing you. By the way—the inquest has been fixed for Thursday.”