"Oh, you know them, do you? That's an odd guess for an innocent man, Tweddle!"
"They found me out from inquiries at the gardens," said Leander; "and as for guessing, it's in this very paper. So it's me they've gone and implicated, have they? All right. I suppose they're men whose word you'd go by, wouldn't you, sir—truthful, reliable kind of parties, eh?"
"None of that, Tweddle," said the Inspector, rather uneasily. "We officers are bound to follow up any clue, no matter where it comes from. I was informed that that Venus is concealed somewhere about these premises. It may be, or it may not be; but it's my duty to make the proper investigations. If you were a prince of the blood, it would be all the same."
"Well, all I can say is, that I'm as innocent as my own toilet preparations. Ask yourself if it is likely. What could I do with a stolen statue—not to mention that I'm a respectable tradesman, with a reputation to maintain? Excuse me, but I'm afraid those burglars have been 'aving a lark with you, sir."
He went just a little too far here, for the detective was visibly irritated.
"Don't chatter to me," he said. "If you're innocent, so much the better for you; if that statue is found here after this, it will ruin you. If you know anything, be it ever so little, about it, the best thing you can do is to speak out while there's time."
"I can only say, once more, I'm as innocent as the drivelling snow," repeated Leander. "Why can't you believe my word against those blackguards?"
"Perhaps I do," said the other; "but I must make a formal look round, to ease my conscience."
Leander's composure nearly failed him. "By all means," he said at length. "Come and ease your conscience all over the house, sir, do; I can show you over."
"Softly," said the detective. "I'll begin here, and work gradually up, and then down again."