“I believe you have some definite suspicion in your mind.”
“My dear inspector, if I have I’m not going to say any more about it just now. You go and find out what I have asked; and then we can talk.”
“I’m to do nothing, then, about Winter?”
“I certainly did not say that. That man Thomas seems to have found out something you had missed. It is your turn to pick up something that has escaped him. Watch the servants at Liskeard House—the maids as well as Winter and Morgan. Keep an eye on the whole household. And meanwhile I will find out all about that girl at Fittleworth. I can have inquiries made locally on the spot.”
“Then you’re inclined to think Winter may have done it?”
“Not at all. There you are jumping to conclusions again. I’m not at all disposed to say anything definite just at present. What we need is further information, and all we can do for the present is to follow up every hint we get.”
“I’ll do my best, sir. But it doesn’t look to me very hopeful.”
“Oh, never say die. Even if we could not find out the whole truth for ourselves—and I believe we can—there is plenty of chance still for the murderer to give himself away. In my experience that is how ninety-nine out of a hundred murderers get caught—I mean of those who do get caught at all. You watch Winter carefully, but don’t jump to the conclusion that he’s guilty. Watch them all: keep your eyes and your mind wide open. We’ll pull it through yet.”
“But,” said the inspector, unable any longer to keep back the question, “if you think neither Walter Brooklyn nor Winter did it, who do you think did?”
“If I knew that, my dear inspector, I shouldn’t be giving you these instructions. The real criminal may be some one quite outside our previous range of suspicion. Indeed, I shan’t be at all surprised if he is.”