“Jolly useful place—don’t you think, Bill? Very useful indeed.”
“Yes,” I replied. “Quite a natural idea, though, surely.”
“Oh, eminently. But come on—let’s be getting back. I’ve seen all that I want to see.”
“Are you going to have a look at the other place where Mary thinks she saw this mysterious watcher—at the angle of the wall past the billiard room window? Or don’t you consider it sufficiently important?”
He seemed to have relapsed into a reverie. “Eh—what’s that—the other place? No—I don’t think I want to see that.” He continued. “If I could do what I hinted at in the first place, Bill—sort the actual clues from the false—the whole thing would resolve itself into a plain and simple explanation. There is some evidence that is either merely fortuitous or has been put into the affair with deliberate intent.”
He stopped and regarded me very seriously. Then he spoke.
“Bill, I’m inclined to think I’m crossing swords with a very clever criminal, but at the same time, I’m also inclined to think that his cleverness will be his undoing.” He rubbed his hands with a kind of pleasurable anticipation.
“Hallo—there’s Baddeley! Any more news, I wonder?”
“Good-day, Mr. Bathurst. Good-day, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Good-day, Inspector.” Anthony eyed him carefully. “You look a wee bit pleased with yourself, Inspector,” he sallied.