Masters repressed a guffaw.
"No, it does not" he retorted dryly. "Old Chief Inspector Radford: if you've read his notes of that time—"
"I have. I've gone over other things too. Y’know, Masters, I may have been doin' you in the eye. Just a little bit"
Masters stiffened. Once more he became as wary as a heavy-game hunter near a somnolent water-buffalo.
"But it was only a telephone-call," pleaded H.M. in a bumbling way. "And it don’t (burn me, it don't!) help with our real problem."
"If you hadn't sent that ruddy clock on ahead of us, and we'd got here—"
"You were tellin' me, Masters. About Fleet's wife."
"Now get this, sir! At that time there was only one person ' who ruled the roost in that house: it was her husband. Why, sir, he once tore up her favourite morning-room, or whatever they call it and put in new panelling and a billiard-table. And she never said a word. I know what my old woman would have said.
"Changeable sort of gentleman, too. One time he had a collection of old swords and daggers. Got tired of 'em, and bang! overnight they went, and she had a room with nothing on the walls but hooks until he could put up antique guns instead. Now," Masters added grimly, "well come to the day of the accident Because it was an accident and I’ll show you why. Come over and look at the house, Sir Henry. Just look out of the window!"
"I got a picture in my mind's eye, son. You just gush on."