“Why, of course. Neither of them meant it, and the easiest way was to let it pass. Theodore understood that and didn’t refer to it again. It’s sometimes the best way to get along with hasty folks.”
“But did Oldbeg forget it?” Cranston asked significantly.
“Possibly not. He knew he was wrong and it made him uneasy, but of course, it all went when the terrible murder was discovered.”
Cranston looked at her with a puzzled expression, and then smiled as he realised that she had not understood his question. He was glad that it was so, and at once passed to other matters.
To Frank Hunter, however, that night he reported his conviction that the evidence pointed more strongly to Oldbeg as the murderer than he had supposed.
“In fact,” he said, “there’s enough to justify his arrest, and with that I feel pretty certain he’ll break down and we’ll get the truth.”
“But the papers,” said Hunter, impatiently. “Oldbeg could have had no knowledge of them, but they’re what we’re first of all interested in.”
“Oh, as for them, Trafford’s got them beyond doubt. They were last seen on the writing-pad, and he made quite a show of taking that. It was nothing but a cover for the papers, of course. You’ve got to open negotiations with him for their purchase, but you can’t do that so long as he thinks they may have something to do with the murder. When the question of the murder’s out of the way, then the papers ’ll simply be papers and you can make quick work of ’em: another reason why you ought to arrest Oldbeg and get that settled.”
“But my brother’s positive Oldbeg had nothing to do with the murder, and whatever his interest may be, he’s not going to let an innocent man suffer an unjust arrest. I’m confident, unless you can give him positive proofs in the matter, he’ll not allow it to be done.”
“Well,” said the man sulkily, “I’m in your employ and shall obey orders, but if I was working on the case as a public matter, I’d have the arrest made and made quick.”