"And the men and women also, I suppose, sir," said Parson quietly. "I had no warrant to do so, let me remind you. Even gipsies have their privileges under the English law. Also, if anyone of these men were guilty, he could easily have passed the cross to one of the women, or buried it. I might have searched and found nothing, only to lay myself open to a lecture from my superiors."
"Still," began Hale, unwilling to surrender his point of view, "let me remind you, Mr. Parson, that----"
"And let me remind you, sir," broke in the officer stiffly, "that only this ornament you speak of was stolen. If a gipsy had broken into the house he would certainly have taken other things. And again, no gipsy could have carried Mr. Walker into your parlour, seeing that not one member of the tribe is aware of your existence, much less where your cottage is situated. I am ignorant on that score myself."
Having thus delivered himself with some anger, for the supercilious demeanour of Hale irritated him, Parson strode away. He intimated curtly to the two men, as he turned on his heel, that if he heard of anything likely to elucidate the mystery he would communicate with them: also he advised them if they found a clue to see him.
Hale laughed at this last request. "I fancy I see myself placing the case in the hands of such a numskull."
George shook his head. "If you do not employ the police, who is to look into the matter?" he asked gravely.
The answer was unexpected.
"You are," said Hale, coldly and decisively.
George stopped--they were walking back to Marlow when this conversation took place--and stared in amazement at his companion. "Why, I am the very worst person in the world to help you," he said, aghast.
"To help yourself, you mean. Remember I promised to consent to your marriage to Lesbia only on condition that I got back the cross."