With its aid, he presently discovered another stain, fainter and rather larger, as though it had been smeared over. “And I think that proves my theory, Horace,” he said cheerfully.
“If the stains turn out to be bloodstains,” amended his cautious assistant, putting the tufts he had sawn off into the match-box Hemingway was holding out to him.
“That'll be a job for Dr. Rotherhope,” said Hemingway. “They look remarkably like it to me.” He glanced at the desk. “And it accounts for the fountain-pen left with its cap off,” he remarked. “I ought to have paid more attention to that when Carsethorn told me that's how he found it. Come on! that sounds like my blonde coming to look for me!”
Chapter Seventeen
The two detectives, walking down the lane towards the Trindale-road, came within sight of Fox Cottage, and saw that an animated group was gathered at its gate. For the animation, what, at first glance, appeared to be a pride of Pekes was responsible. Closer inspection revealed that only five of the Ultimas were present, four of them harnessed on couplings, and winding themselves round their owner's legs, and the fifth, in whose stately mien Hemingway recognised Ulysses, the patriarch, unrestrained by a leash. Young Mr. Haswell's car was parked in the lane, but he and Mrs. Midgeholme both stood outside the gate. On the other side of it, and leaning on its top bar, were Miss Patterdale, wearing an overall and gardening-gloves, and her niece, looking remarkably pretty in a pink linen frock and an enormous and floppy sunhat. All four were engaged in discussion, Mrs. Midgeholme's demeanour being particularly impressive; and none of them noticed the approach of the detectives until Ulysses attracted attention by stalking up the lane towards the newcomers, and uttering a threatening bark.
“Now, what's the matter with you, old High and Mighty? Nice way to greet your friends!” said Hemingway, stooping to pat Ulysses.
Ulysses's eyes started with indignation at this familiarity. He growled, but he was not a dog of hasty disposition, and before proceeding to extreme measures he sniffed the Chief Inspector's hand, and realised that here was, if not a friend, at least a bowing acquaintance. His mighty mane sank, he slightly waved his tail, and sneezed.
“Isn't he the cleverest old fellow?” exclaimed Mrs. Midgeholme. “He knows you quite well!”
Her voice was drowned by frantic pleas from the four other Ultimas to their progenitor not to be taken in by the police. Ulysses, looking scornfully at them, gave further evidence of his sagacity by placing himself in a position clearly inviting the Chief Inspector to scratch his back. Hemingway very obligingly did so, while Mrs. Midgeholme unwound the other Ultimas, and besought them to be quiet.
“I guessed I should find you here,” she told Hemingway. “I saw the police-car just round the corner, waiting, and I put two and two together and deduced that you were visiting the scene of the crime. So I thought I'd just pop down on the off-chance of running into you.”