"Yes, yes, it must have astonished you, and I confess I am very sorry you found me out," said Cyril. He had his cue now. The old lie must be told once more. "Her Ladyship is suffering from a—a nervous affection." He hesitated purposely. "In fact—she has just left an insane asylum," he finally blurted out.
"You mean that the present Lady Wilmersley—not the Dowager—?" The Inspector was too surprised to finish his sentence.
"Yes, it's queer, isn't it, that both should be afflicted in the same way," agreed Cyril, calmly lighting a cigarette.
"Most remarkable," ejaculated Griggs, staring fixedly at Cyril.
"As the doctors believe that her Ladyship will completely recover, I didn't want any one to know that she had ever been unbalanced. But I might have known that it was bound to leak out."
"We are no gossips, my lord; I shall not mention what you have told me to any one."
"Thanks. But if the whole police department——?"
"They have got too much to do, to bother about what doesn't concern them. I don't believe a dozen of them noticed that in searching the train for one Lady Wilmersley, they had inadvertently stumbled on another, and as the latter had nothing to do with their case, they probably dismissed the whole thing from their minds. I know them!"
"But you—" suggested Cyril.
"Well, you see, it's different with me. It's the business of my men to bring me isolated facts, but I have to take a larger view of the—the—the—ah—possibilities. I have got to think of everything—suspect every one."