"So you might have thought you'd be wanted for a certainty, mightn't you? A man with lumbago, for instance, isn't going to bend down to tie up his shoelaces."
"No," admitted Ford sulkily. "But it's my belief Mr. Herriard put it on."
"Never had lumbago at all?"
"I wouldn't go as far as to say that. He did have it sometimes pretty bad, but it wasn't always as bad as he liked to make out. If he was put out over anything, he'd carry on as though he was a cripple."
"Did he have you in to help him to dress yesterday morning?"
"Yes, he did, but -"
"But what?"
"Nothing, sir, only I didn't think he had it badly. It was mostly temper."
"Bad-tempered man, wasn't he?"
"Well, that's it, Inspector. He was a fair Tartar when anyone had got his dander up. You never knew how to take him," Ford explained eagerly. "I know it sounds funny, me not liking to go into his room last night until he rang for me, but I give you my word this is a funny kind of a house, and you had to watch your step with Mr. Herriard. If he was in a good mood you could go in and out as anyone would expect to in my position; but if he had one of his black fits on him you couldn't do right, and that's a fact."