I confess it startled me.
“Can any of you tell me reasonably accurately, what time it started raining here last evening?”
“I can,” I answered. “The rain started about ten minutes to seven.”
“And ceased—when?” he followed up.
“It was not raining,” I said, “at a quarter to twelve.”
“How do you know? Were you out?”
“No, Inspector,” I replied. “I happened to look out into the garden about that time and the stars were shining—that’s all.”
“H’m! Sure of your time?”
“Quite.”
“Now, gentlemen,” Baddeley turned to us all with a gesture that contained a certain amount of defiance and, at the same time, the fleeting hint of an apology—and he seemed to gain from it an added sense of dignity—“I need your help. And because I need it—I’m going to ask for it.”