“I have, yes,” said the Squire, his brows lifting a little, in a way that clearly conveyed to the Chief Inspector that he failed to understand what concern this was of his.
“You'll pardon my asking,” said Hemingway, “but are you selling your timber to a client of Mr. Warrenby's?”
“To a client of Warrenby's?” repeated the Squire, a hint of astonishment in his level voice. “No, I am not!”
“Ah, that's where I've got a bit confused!” said Hemingway. “It was the gravel-pit he was interested in, wasn't it? There's some correspondence in his office, dealing with that. I don't know that it's important, but I'd better get it straight.”
“I have had no dealings whatsoever with Warrenby, in his professional capacity,” said the Squire.
“He wasn't by any chance acting for this firm that's working your pit, sir?”
“Certainly not. I happen to know that Throckington & Flimby act for them. In point of fact, no solicitors were employed either by me or by them.”
“You didn't get your own solicitors to draw up the contract, sir?”
“Quite unnecessary! Sheer waste of money! Very respectable firm. They wouldn't cheat me, or I them.”
“Then, I daresay that would account for your solicitors not seeming to know you'd already disposed of the rights in the pit,” said Hemingway.