Colonel Leach-Fletcher acknowledged the introduction with a quick inclination of the head—and a rather cavalier one, at that. “I am ready to tell you anything you think necessary—but really, I’m afraid you will find it of small consequence—sit down, gentlemen!” The Colonel took up his position in front of the mantelpiece as his self-invited guests accepted his invitation.
“In the first place, Colonel,” said Goodall, opening the interview, “I am informed that you dined with the murdered man on the evening of the murder, and left Assynton Lodge somewhere about ten o’clock.” Goodall looked up for the Colonel’s corroboration. It came immediately.
“Quite correct!” Goodall waited to see if the Colonel purposed adding anything to his reply, but the Colonel didn’t—he waited for Goodall.
“Was Mr. Stewart in normally good spirits during the evening, Colonel?”
Colonel Leach-Fletcher twirled his white moustache. Then he thrust his two hands deep into his trouser-pockets and stood still. “Look here, Inspector—what name did you say—Goodall?—look here, Inspector Goodall—I’m utterly opposed to beating about the bush, so I’ll tell you straight to your face without any embroidery that I hate your infernal trade and all its tricks and practices. But I’m a man that realizes the exigencies of duty—so I’ll waive my personal inclinations that prompt me to send you to the Devil—and I’ll answer your question—even though I feel within me that I’m betraying a dead man’s confidence. Mr. Stewart was not exactly in his ordinary cheerful frame of mind on the evening in question.”
“H’m,” said Goodall, “perhaps you will explain more fully.”
Anthony’s eyes never left the Colonel now—he realized that he might be on the point of hearing something that touched the crime very closely. The Colonel’s steely-blue eyes were full of resolution and determination. He had made a decision, and though he found its carrying-out irksome and unpleasant, he was determined to see it through.
“You must understand that Stewart and I had become very friendly and were on very intimate terms. We had a number of common interests and we were almost neighbors, four miles isn’t a great distance in the country. I am not sure that, when he invited me to dine with him that evening, he hadn’t a special reason for so doing. If I may be permitted to say so—he valued my opinion on most things and regarded himself as privileged to consider me a friend. During the evening—after dinner—he took me into the library and told me of two matters that were causing him a good deal of uneasiness. The first was rather a surprising one. He told me that there was underhand work going on at Assynton Lodge.”
Anthony, with a quick glance at Goodall, cut in. “Did he actually use the word ‘underhand,’ Colonel?”
The latter pursed his lips. “Upon reflection, I believe he used the word ‘treacherous,’ but I’m not absolutely certain on the point. Is it very important?”