“You're right. And if I have any cheek from you, Horace, I'll give you the job of checking up on the whole thirty-seven!”
Cheered by this threat, the Inspector permitted himself to smile faintly. “Well, the Squire has one,” he offered. “Likewise a chap called Eckford, his agent; and a John Henshaw, game-keeper. Setting aside the possibility that someone might have got hold of their rifles unbeknownst, there doesn't seem to be any reason, from what Carsethorn tells me, to think they could have had anything to do with the case. Next, there's Kenelm Lindale: he has one.”
“Which he lent to Ladislas the Pole not so long ago. I remember that one,” interpolated Hemingway.
“I thought you would,” said Harbottle, eyeing him with melancholy pride. “Then there's young Mr. Haswell's, which he spoke about; and Mr. Plenmeller's, which you picked up. Josiah Crailing has one—he's the landlord of the Red Lion; and the last belongs to Mr. Cliburn, the Vicar. Mr. Drybeck's got a shot-gun only; and Major Midgeholme's hanging on to his Service revolver, and six cartridges, which there's a fight about every time his Firearms Licence is due for renewal. So far he's managed to keep them.” He folded his list, and put it back in his pocket. “That's the lot, Chief—so far as the Register goes. Do you want Carsethorn to pull them all in?”
“What, the whole thirty-seven?”
“Eleven,” Harbottle corrected him.
“Call it eight, Horace! If all else fails, maybe I'll start to take an interest in these three farmers of yours, but so far I've got enough on my hands without annoying people that very likely wouldn't have recognised Warrenby if they'd met him in the street. Tell Carsethorn to make the usual enquiries, and not to go cluttering poor old Knarsdale up with a lot of rifles which their owners can account for.” He paused, and considered for a moment. “No sense in us treading on one another's heels—nor in getting ourselves disliked more than we probably are already. I'm going to Thornden myself tomorrow, and I shall be paying a call on the Vicar. Tell Carsethorn I'll bring in that rifle if I see fit. He'd better pull in the Squire's, Lindale's, and young Haswell's first thing. He seems a fairly sensible chap, but you'd better warn him to do the thing tactfully—particularly when he gets to the Squire. The usual stuff about persons unauthorised perhaps having got hold of it.”
The Inspector nodded, but said: “You're going to see the Vicar?”
“Yes, and his rifle gives me a nice excuse.”
“Carsethorn did check up on his alibi. It seems all right, Chief.”