“I could tell from the way Coupland spoke Drybeck thought he ought to have been appointed.”
“Well, I don't know that I blame them for choosing Warrenby. I should think he was an efficient bloke, which is more than I'd be prepared to say of Drybeck on the evidence I've got so far. Yes, yes, Horace, I know what you're after! It gives Drybeck a bit more motive. You may be right, but I should think he must have got used to seeing Warrenby grabbing every job in sight. Don't tell me he didn't get himself appointed Town Clerk, Coroner, Sexton, Welfare Officer, and Town Crier as well, because I wouldn't believe it!”
“He was the Coroner, but as for the rest of them, he was not, and couldn't have been,” said the Inspector austerely.
“You don't know what the poor fellow would have managed to be if he hadn't been cut off in his prime. Have you come upon anything that might be of use to us?”
“Not unless you're interested in a letter about Mr. Ainstable's gravel-pit, or the negotiations for the purchase of Fox House. You might like to see that: it gives you a fair idea of what the deceased was like. The way he beat the owner down! But it's old stuff.”
“What was he writing about the Squire's gravel-pit? Trying to buy that too, at cost-price?”
“No, it's only a letter from some firm of London solicitors, which is an answer to one from him on behalf of a client. There ought to be a copy of that, but I haven't found it yet. Must have slipped out of the clip.”
“You don't seem able to find the answer either,” remarked Hemingway, watching him scuffle through the heaps of papers on the desk. “What was it about?”
“Seems Warrenby had a client who was interested in gravel, and he was making enquiries on his behalf.”
“The hobbies people go in for!”