"Good God!" said Dr. Wynne, and stopped as Masters turned to glare.
"Thank you very much, doctor," observed the chief inspector in a quick, colorless voice. "You've been most helpful. We needn't detain you any longer… Er, hullo? Thompson? Still here, eh? I thought I told you; well, my mistake. You'd better wait outside, now."
"I know the man's drunk," snapped the little doctor, "but does he realize who he's talking about? John Bohun, hah? His host. Well, well, well. Yes, I'm going. John's having breakfast. I think I shall just inform him he's needed here."
Masters — big and urbane, but with a vein beating at his temple-edged the doctor away as though he were smoothing off crumbs, and spoke in a low voice. Remembering what had happened upstairs, Bennett quickly suggested a visit to Louise Carewe; and, as he sketched out what had happened, it caught Masters' ear more easily than the doctor's. Masters said, "Oh, ah?" and to Bennett, "Stay here!" as he sent out Thompson and edged out Dr. Wynne. When the strident voice was fading down the hall Masters returned to Rainger, who had got a bottle of gin out of his pocket and was tilting it to his lips while a sardonic eye rolled round at the chief inspector.
"You want to accuse Mr. John Bohun," said Masters, with another silencing gesture at Potter, "of murder. I dare say you realize that's rather a serious matter to speak of, even when you can back it up?"
"Certainly I can back it up, my friend. Hoho. Yes. You've had statements," replied the director, suddenly becoming cool and sharp-faced, "from both Bohun and an actor named Willard. Now don't put on that pawn-broker-refusing-a-loan look, my friend; I heard you discussing it, and I know what they said. They gave their version of what happened last night. Now I'll give you mine. Don't you realize why there was only one set of tracks in the snow, going in?"
"Be careful, sir. Remember, they were fresh tracks."
"Of course they were fresh tracks." He controlled his hard breathing. "First! Bohun was in London last night, to see His Lordship. To see the great Lord Canifest. Did he tell you that?"
"Oh, ah?" inquired Masters, his dull eye turning sideways towards Bennett. Bennett remembered that Masters had spoken to H. M., and must know a good deal of the story. "Mr. Bohun said he had a business appointment; that was all. You mean the newspaper-owner? Just so."
"Now you had better know why Bohun saw him, if you don't know," said Rainger, looking at him queerly, "already. Canifest intended to put up the money for the play Marcia was to appear in. And last night Canifest refused. Bohun and Marcia were afraid he was going to refuse. That was why Bohun got nervous and rushed over to see him last night."