"Yes, you."
The Sergeant said: "Well, if you call it encouraging him to tell him where he gets off-'
"I believe you enjoy him," said Hannasyde accusingly. The Sergeant grinned. "Well, I've got to admit it adds a bit of interest to the case, waiting for him to run dry. You'd think he must have got pretty well all he's learnt off his chest by now, wouldn't you? He hasn't, though. I certainly have to hand it to him: he hasn't repeated himself once so far. Where do we go from here?"
"To North's house," replied Hannasyde. "I must see if I can get out of him what he was doing on the night of the murder. You, I think, might put in a little good work in the servants' hall."
But when he arrived at the Chestnuts Hannasyde was met by the intelligence that North had left the house immediately after lunch. The butler was unable to state his master's destination, but did not think, since he was driving himself in his touring car, that he was bound for his City office.
After a moment's consideration, Hannasyde asked to have his card taken to Mrs. North. The butler accepted it, remarking repressively that he would see whether it were convenient for his mistress to receive him, and ushered him into the library.
Here he was presently joined by Miss Drew, who came in with her monocle screwed firmly into her eye, and a cigarette stuck into a long amber holder. "My sister's resting, but she'll be down in a moment," she informed him. "What do you want to see her about?"
"I'll tell her, when she comes," he replied politely.
She grinned. "All right: I can take a snub. But if it's about that epic story Neville Fletcher burbled into your Sergeant's ears, I can tell you now you're wasting your time. It leads nowhere."
"Epic story? Oh, you mean his adventures on the night of his uncle's death! No, I haven't come about that."