“I’m afraid so. There will be too many concerned in it.”
“Quite. Well, you must get up some tale about it. What are you going to say?”
“I haven’t thought yet, sir. I’ll dish out something when the time comes.”
When French reached Hellifield on his return journey he found Oxley on the platform.
“You been travelling also, Inspector?” Oxley greeted him. “I’ve just been to Penrith for the day. These connections always make me curse. They’re all arranged to and from Leeds, but people going to or from the north have to kick their heels here for the best part of an hour each way.”
“Can’t please everybody, Mr. Oxley,” French remarked tritely.
“You think not?” Oxley smiled. “Well, how’s the case?”
“Nothing doing for the moment. I was in seeing Dr. Philpot this morning. He seems in a bad way, poor fellow.”
Oxley looked grave.
“It’s a bad case, I fear.” He glanced round and his voice sank. “From what I’ve heard and by putting two and two together I shouldn’t wonder if he’ll only pay two or three shillings in the pound. All gone to the bookies, or nearly all. You know, Inspector, between ourselves, when a man’s in debt all round, as he is, it’s not just the game to go putting his last few pounds on horses.”