"See here, Wimsey," said the barrister, "you are not a fool, and it's no use trying to look like a country policeman. You are really trying to find this man?"
"Certainly."
"Just as you like, of course, but my hands are rather tied already. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps he'd better not be found?"
Wimsey stared at the lawyer with such honest astonishment as actually to disarm him.
"Remember this," said the latter earnestly, "that if once the police get hold of a thing or a person it's no use relying on my, or Murbles's, or anybody's professional discretion. Everything's raked out into the light of common day, and very common it is. Here's Denver accused of murder, and he refuses in the most categorical way to give me the smallest assistance."
"Jerry's an ass. He doesn't realize—"
"Do you suppose," broke in Biggs, "I have not made it my business to make him realize? All he says is, 'They can't hang me; I didn't kill the man, though I think it's a jolly good thing he's dead. It's no business of theirs what I was doing in the garden.' Now I ask you, Wimsey, is that a reasonable attitude for a man in Denver's position to take up?"
Peter muttered something about "Never had any sense."
"Had anybody told Denver about this other man?"
"Something vague was said about footsteps at the inquest, I believe."