“Well, I daresay it would sour one a bit, to be as lame as he is,” said Hemingway. “It's certainly an education to hear him talk, and the things he can find to say about pretty well everyone he lays his tongue to fairly made me sit up. However, I don't know that I set much store by it. It wouldn't surprise me if he was living up to a reputation for coming out with something shocking every time he opens his mouth.”
The Vicar bent an approving look upon him, and said, in his gentle way that he was a wise man. “I have been much distressed at the attitude he has seen fit to assume over this shocking affair,” he said. “Upon the lack of Christian charity, I will not enlarge, but from the worldly point of view I have ventured to warn him that the unbridled exercise of his wit is open to misconstruction. In the event,” he added, inclining his head in the suggestion of a bow, “I perceive that my fears were groundless.”
“Thank you very much, sir,” said Hemingway cheerfully. “Come to think of it, I might feel a lot more suspicious if Mr. Plenmeller had seen fit to change his tone, because from what I'm told he's been saying for months that Mr. Warrenby would have to be got rid of. What I haven't yet been able to make out is why he had it in for Mr. Warrenby more than anyone else—which is saying something, according to what I'm told.” He paused, but the Vicar merely sighed, and Haswell gave a laugh and a shrug. “Or even,” he continued thoughtfully, “if the only difference between him and the rest of the good people here who couldn't stand Mr. Warrenby was that he said just what he thought, and they didn't.”
“I fear so, I fear so!” said the Vicar mournfully.
There was a decided twinkle in the Chief Inspector's eye. “You too, sir?”
“I cannot deny it,” replied the Vicar, sinking deeper into dejection. “One has tried not to entertain uncharitable thoughts, but the flesh is weak—terribly weak!”
“You will soon find yourself regarding with suspicion anyone who did not dislike Warrenby, Chief Inspector,” said Haswell. “Let me hasten to assure you that I found him quite as objectionable as the Vicar did!”
Hemingway laughed, and got up. “He does seem to have made himself unpopular,” he agreed. “I won't take up any more of your time now, sir.”
“Not at all,” said the Vicar courteously. “My time is at the disposal of those who may need it.”
He then escorted Hemingway to the front-door, shook hands with him, and said that he could have wished to have met him on a happier occasion.