Sir Charles thanked him, and the Inspector bowed himself out.
“I want you to motor me over to Canterbury, Roper,” he announced as soon as he got back. “Major Hornby’s staying there—it shouldn’t take us too long although, being Bank Holiday, the roads are certain to be pretty thick.” A couple of hours’ journey took them over, and shortly afterwards the car drew up outside Melville’s Hotel.
The Inspector sent up his card with the request that he might see the Manager. A tall man—dark and rather military-looking—quickly attended upon him.
Baddeley told him his errand. “Major Hornby is staying here—certainly—he arrived late on Saturday evening—but he is not in at the present moment.”
“Would he be likely to be long?” inquired the Inspector.
The Manager didn’t think so—he would speak to one of the waiters. Would the Inspector be kind enough to excuse him for a moment? Baddeley kicked his heels in the vestibule. But his patience was not strained for long. “Major Hornby is expected back for dinner—he has asked his waiter to reserve him a corner seat at one of the dining-tables. Will you wait, Inspector, or call back in about an hour?” Baddeley thought the matter over for a moment and decided to call back.
“Roper,” he said as he entered the car, “drive to a nice little pub, where we can get a Guinness and something to eat in a certain amount of seclusion. I’m getting a bit peckish.”
Now this was a job near Roper’s heart, and he lost little time in the fulfilment of the instruction. The saloon they entered was moderately full, and divided into two compartments, one of which was curtained off and designated, “Smoke Lounge.” Baddeley elected to remain in the ordinary compartment and was just settling down to the enjoyment of his “snack” when the fragment of a conversation from the other side of the curtain arrested his attention and screwed all his faculties to their highest pitch. “Well, Barker,” said a voice that sounded strangely familiar, “I’m glad I met you as you suggested—and I’m more than glad that you’ve come to me for advice. I’ve given it to you, and I hope you’ll decide to take it. It’s always as well in affairs of this kind, to make a clean breast to somebody. And I don’t imagine that the truth will ever be brought to light now—so you can rest in peace.”
Baddeley’s eyes met Roper’s—he put his finger to his lips.
“Thanks awfully, Major,” came the reply, “it’s been no end of a worry wondering what has been found out, and what hasn’t, and I’m deuced glad to have told you. I’ll say good-night”; and before Baddeley could offer any further warning—the heavy, dark-blue curtain parted and there stepped out Lieutenant Barker. Without noticing their presence, he strode across the apartment and disappeared. The Inspector gripped the edge of the table with his fingers. Then he leaned across and addressed his companion.