The Sergeant cast him a shrewd glance, and said: "I told you this wasn't going to be such a whale of a case, Chief. Said so at the start. Bad morning?"
"No, merely inconclusive. Budd had been doublecrossing Fletcher; Neville Fletcher seems to be up to his eyes in debt; and North did not spend the evening of the 17th at his flat."
"Well, isn't that nice?" said the Sergeant. "Stage all littered up with suspects, just like I said it would be! Tell me more about friend Budd."
Hannasyde gave him a brief account of the broker's exploits. The Sergeant scratched his chin, remarking at the end of the tale: "I don't like it. Not a bit. You can say, of course, that if he had to hand over nine thousand shares which he hadn't got, and couldn't get without pretty well ruining himself, he had a motive for murdering the late Ernest. On the other hand, what he said to you about Ernest's not being able to come out into the open to prosecute him rings very true. Very true indeed. He's not my fancy at all. What about North?"
"North, unless I'm much mistaken, is playing a deep game. He told me that after dinner at his club he returned to his flat, and went early to bed. What actually happened was that he returned to his flat shortly after 8.30 p.m., and went out again just before 9.00. He came back finally at 11.45."
"Well, well, well!" said the Sergeant. "No deception? All quite open and above-board?"
"Apparently. He paused to exchange a word with the hall porter on his way in at 8.30; when he went out the porter offered to call a taxi, and he refused, saying he would walk."
"Who saw him come in later, Chief?"
"The night porter. He says that he caught sight of North stepping into the lift."
"Well, for a man who impressed you as having a head on his shoulders he doesn't seem to me to be doing so very well," said the Sergeant. "What was the use of his telling you he'd spent the evening at his flat when he must have known you could bust the story wide open at the first blow?"