"Yes, that's why I'm handing him over to you," said the Sergeant. "And I don't want any more backchat! You'll get that butler talking, and see what you can pick up."
Half-an-hour later the Sergeant, standing before the wall at the end of the garden, and gazing thoughtfully at one of the espaliers growing against it, was interrupted in his cogitations by the arrival on the scene of Neville Fletcher and Miss Drew.
"Oh, here's the Sergeant!" said Neville. "He's a nice man, Sally: you'll like him."
The Sergeant turned, foreboding in his breast. The monocle in Miss Drew's eye confirmed his fears. He regarded her with misgiving, but, being a polite man, bade her good-morning.
"You're looking for the weapon," said Miss Drew. "I've given a good deal of thought to that myself."
"So have I. I was even constructive," said Neville. "But Malachi told me to stand in awe, and sin not."
The Sergeant's lips twitched, but he said dryly: "Well, from all I hear, sir, that was about what you were asking for."
"Yes, but he also advised me to commune with my own heart upon my bed, and be still, which I maintain was unreasonable at three in the afternoon."
"I rather think of making a study of Malachi," announced Miss Drew. "He's probably a very interesting case - psychologically speaking. He ought to be psychoanalysed, I think."
"You're right, miss; he ought," agreed the Sergeant, regarding her with a kindlier light in his eye. "Ten to one, it would come out that he had something happen to him when he was an infant that would account for the kink he's got now."