“When you like and where you like, Inspector Bannister. Go through it with a small tooth-comb. That cackle won’t put any wind up me.” He flung out of the room leaving Bannister white and furious.
“Well, Mr. Bathurst,” he said at length, “and what do you make of that charming gentleman? An extraordinary story, don’t you think?”
“He’s passing through a phase of deep emotion, Inspector,” responded Anthony; “in point of fact, I’m intensely sorry for him. As to his story—it’s more than extraordinary—to me it’s positively conflicting—yet——”
“Yet what?”
“I think it may prove to be of inestimable help eventually. When I’ve sorted things out a bit I think perhaps there may be a peep of silver lining shining through the clouds.”
“Hope to goodness you’re right—although I can’t see it myself.” He rattled the coins in his pocket.
“What’s your next step, Inspector?” queried Mr. Bathurst.
“Don’t quite know at this juncture—I’m torn between two or three intentions. There are several things I want to do. On the whole, I think I shall return to Seabourne. I’m confident the kernel of the affair will be found down there. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I rather fancy I shall put in one or two more days up here. It’s a county about which I know very little and I feel that I should like to have a bit of a run round. I was always interested in new places.”
“Hallo, Mr. Bathurst—the scent getting cold—eh?” Bannister’s tone was genially provoking and contained a strong hint of raillery.