Mr Corder stared.
“Trouble’s turned your head, my son, by the looks of it. Whatever rummage be you talking about?”
“’Tis sense, I promise you. I nearly told just now when us was speaking about the burglary. Then, just here of all places, your horse falls lame. ’Tis like Providence calling me to speak.”
Daniel was playing his solitary card. The chances were still a thousand to one against him; but he saw a faint possibility, if things should fall out right. His swift mind had seized the accident of the horse’s lameness, and his plot was made.
“Be plain if you can,” said Corder. “Don’t think I’m against you. Only I say again, there’s no power in us to help you, even if we had the will.”
“I’m thinking of last August—that burglary. Well, now, how about it if I was able to help you chaps to clear that up? Wouldn’t I be doing you a good turn, Greg, if you was able to say at headquarters that by cross-questioning me you’d wormed the truth out of me?”
Mr Gregory stared. He licked his lips at the very idea.
“An’ if Mr Corder here was agreeable, an’ let me explain, you might find that when you drive into Plymouth in a few hours’ time, you would be taking five thousand pounds of silver plate along with you, besides me. Wouldn’t there be a bit of a stir about it—not to name the reward? Why, you’d all be promoted for certain.”
“Twelve hundred and fifty pounds’ reward was offered by the parties,” said Mr Corder.
“And do you mean that you know anything?” asked the inspector, much excited.