Anthony turned over the counterfoils for a moment or two. “Nothing here, either, I fancy; only five checks drawn since the beginning of May—four to ‘Self’ and one to the tailor whose account we just handled. Well, I’m not surprised—I didn’t want to find anything startling.”
“Any information helps,” muttered Baddeley somewhat gloomily.
“Not always, Inspector! Consider your own position here—you found pieces of information from time to time that only served to confuse you. You have admitted that yourself! They wouldn’t fit in, as links in the chain—I had the same difficulty——”
“That’s true,” conceded the Inspector. “But you like to feel you’re running freely.”
Anthony went straight across to him. “I do, Inspector. I feel that I’m actually ‘in the straight.’”
But Baddeley refused to be comforted. “I’m not denying that you’ve done one or two smart things, but I’m afraid you’re a bit over-confident. I’ve been at the game longer than——”
Anthony cut in. “Look here, Baddeley, do you think I should say a thing like that, without good and sufficient reason?”
I subjected Baddeley to a careful scrutiny, for I felt myself sympathizing with him. How could Anthony possibly make a statement like that? It seemed to me from what I had seen of the case—which was as much as anybody—that several people lay under suspicion, but none more than any other. Now there was Hornby to add to Webb, Barker, “Marshall” and the rest of them. I could quite see Baddeley’s point of view—a maze of clues and not one, to my outlook, that stood out conspicuously from the others.
Baddeley’s voice broke in upon my reverie.
“No, Mr. Bathurst—I don’t! But since you ask me—I’m dashed if I can follow you—I don’t see my way clearly and that’s a fact.”