"All right, all right, all right! Looky here, Race. I'll do it on one condition. The chap you want from London is called Masters. Chief Inspector Masters….
"Yes, that's it. You get him into this hot water, and I'll jump in too…
"I can depend on that, can I?..
"All right, then. Yes, I'll go over now, if you're so blinkin' hot about it. All right. Hoo-hoo. G'-by."
The receiver went up with a bang.
When H.M. plodded back into the library, he wore a somewhat guilty air which he tried to conceal under a truculent scowl. His corporation, ornamented by a large gold watch-chain, was truculent of itself.
"Get your hat, son," he said. "You're comin' along."
"Where?"
"Just up the road," insisted H.M., his truculence changing to honeyed persuasion. "A solicitor named Arthur Fane has been polished off by his wife—" "God Almighty!"
"But there seems to be some doubt about who did it." All of a sudden Courtney was conscious of sharp little eyes boring into him from behind the spectacles; they made him jump.