“Let's leave it at that, shall we?” suggested Randall, with an edge to his voice.
Hannasyde sipped his drink for a while in silence. Presently he said: “And that's why you so carefully stayed away from here all day? To give Rumbold time to do away with himself?”
“You will have a great deal of difficulty in proving that, my dear Superintendent.”
Hannasyde smiled somewhat wryly, but all he said was: “Did you expect to find some of the Hyde-papers in your uncle's desk that day you went down to the Poplars with Mr Carrington and me?”
“No, it hadn't dawned on me then. I expected to find what we did find—letters relating to my Uncle Henry's affair. Luckily, not as bad as they might have been.”
Hannasyde could not forbear a grin. “You behaved atrociously over that, Mr Matthews.”
“At least I not only got rid of my dear Aunt Gertrude for you, but quite effectually stopped her smelling any rat.”
“Well, yes,” admitted Hannasyde. “Still—! Was it the sun-glasses that gave it to you?”
“Not immediately. I don't think I can tell you when I first began to suspect. It was the quite freely-expressed opinion of my late father that my uncle was a bad hat, so that I started with an advantage over you in that I was prejudiced against him. Then, too, I had been privileged to observe his handling of my Uncle Henry, and of Dr Fielding. Probably that modified form of blackmail may have put the idea into my head. It—ah, burst into flower when you came to see me one day, and asked me what the name of Hyde conveyed to me. I rather think that I may have been a trifle flippant with you, Superintendent.”
“Very,” said Hannasyde emphatically. “You suggested first Parks, and then Stevenson.”