“That was kind,” said Hartridge affably. “And, now that your patient waiting has been duly rewarded?——”
“Now that we have caught you we shall ask you to solve that little problem in psychology for us,” put in Tregarvon. “We’d like to know what it is that you have just been dropping into that drill-hole.”
“And if I assure you that I have been putting nothing into your drill-hole, what then, Mr. Tregarvon?”
“In that case I shall ask Carfax to see that you don’t run away while I ascertain for myself,” was the firm rejoinder; and a careful dip of the long cleaning spoon into the test-hole brought up a half-dozen small metallic objects; cubes cut from a bar of tool-steel they appeared to be.
Tregarvon handled the cubes and passed them on to Carfax.
“We owe you something for a day lost and four drill points all but ruined, Mr. Hartridge,” he said rather grimly, adding: “But we’ll credit your account with this present failure to make us do it all over again to-morrow. Would you mind telling us in so many words what your object has been—or still is, perhaps?”
The professor’s smile was imperturbably bland.
“I am sure you wouldn’t be so harsh as to put me on the witness-stand in my own defense,” he said, still amiable. “Especially since you have no evidence of anything worse than a neighborly call at, perhaps, a somewhat unseasonable hour.”
At this Carfax came quite close and he forgot to lisp when he said: “Mr. Hartridge, may I ask you to remove your overcoat for a moment? The night is a bit chilly, I know, but——”
The tone of the request was gentle enough but there was a quality in it that made the suggestion a demand. The professor slipped out of the coat, quaintly quoting Scripture for the ready compliance. “‘If any man ... take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak, also.’ Anything to oblige a friend, Mr. Carfax.”