“Yes,” was the laconic reply.
The Chief Constable was startled but eager.
“God bless my soul!” he exclaimed, sitting up. “You’re a welcome visitor. Look here, let me ring for my Superintendent.”
Mr. Johnson held out his hand.
“Not for the moment, if you please,” he begged. “I would rather say what I have to say to you in confidence. Afterwards, I understand the information must be used in such manner as you think fit.”
The other nodded.
“Very well,” he agreed.
The tenant of the Great House squared himself up to the desk. He was a different-looking man to the kindly person who had driven Miss Besant over to Norwich.
“Major Holmes,” he said, “I shall ask you to consider as private so much of this conversation as does not come under the heading of official information.”
“Certainly.”