“Oh, wouldn't he? Seems to me that if he thinks I'm the original Sherlock Holmes it's about the best thing he could do! It's a pity I'm not, because if I were I daresay I should have deduced by this time where I ought to look for that Colt. As it is, I shall have to work on the evidence I've got.”
“Look here!” said the Colonel, a little uneasily. “What you've been saying is extraordinarily plausible, but aren't we going too fast? We're all three of us talking as though there were no doubt Gavin murdered Warrenby!”
“There isn't, sir,” said Hemingway calmly.
Chapter Eighteen
This pronouncement made the Colonel look searchingly at him. “What makes you so confident?” he asked.
“Flair,” replied Hemingway, without a moment's hesitation.
“Eh?” said the Sergeant.
“The Chief Inspector means—er—intuition,” explained the Colonel. “Well, Hemingway, you know your own business best. What's the next move?”
“I want Sergeant Carsethorn to do a bit of investigation for me, if you don't mind, sir.”
“Very happy to, I'm sure!” said the gratified Sergeant.