"All right: thanks! That's all."
Hannasyde replaced the instrument on its rest, and turned to find the Sergeant regarding him with newly awakened interest.
"You needn't tell me, Super! I gathered it all right. Mather passed up the street at 9.15, and Brown never saw him at all. Well, well, well! Now we do look like getting somewhere, don't we? What you might call opening up a new avenue. Who is Mr. Brown, and what has he got to do with the case? Come to think of it, he did answer me remarkably pat. But what he's playing at - unless he killed Carpenter - I don't see."
"Alfred Carpenter," said Hannasyde, disregarding these remarks. "What's his address? I want the name of that travelling company Carpenter joined."
"Back on to Angela?" said the Sergeant, handing over Alfred Carpenter's deposition. "She wasn't one of the members of the company, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, I'm not thinking that. What I want is a list of the towns visited by that company."
"Holy Moses!" gasped the Sergeant. "You're never going to comb the Midlands for a girl whose name you don't even know?"
Hannasyde looked up, a sudden twinkle in his deep-set eyes. "No, I'm not as insane as that - quite."
The Sergeant said suspiciously, "What do you mean by that, Chief? Pulling my leg?"
"No. And if the notion that has occurred to me turns out to be as far-fetched as I fear it is, I'm not going to give you a chance to pull mine either," replied Hannasyde. "Yes, I see Alfred Carpenter's on the telephone. Get his house, will you, and ask if he knows the name of that company or, failing that, a possible agent's name. He ought to be home by now."