The Sergeant looked disappointed. "You made a point when you asked him if he'd mentioned his nose-bleed to anyone."
"I didn't really, but I wanted to see what he'd do if I rattled him. Nose-bleeding's a silly sort of kid's complaint: you don't go round bucking about it."
"Then you do believe him!"
"I've got what wouldn't do you any harm, my lad: an open mind! This is a job for the scientists. Until they tell me that this blood belongs to old Herriard's group, there's nothing I can do about it. You'd better come along, and get some lunch now."
The Sergeant, feeling rather dissatisfied, followed him out into the hall, where he was pounced on by Mottisfont, who said in a complaining tone that he had been waiting to speak to him for a long time.
"Yes, sir, what is it?" asked Hemingway, eyeing him dispassionately.
"I don't know how much longer you propose to take over your investigation," Mottisfont said sarcastically, "but I must point out to you that my time is not my own. I'm a very busy man. I came down here merely to spend Christmas, not to remain indefinitely. I have an important business engagement in town tomorrow, and with all due deference to you I propose to leave in the morning."
"I've no objection, sir," said Hemingway calmly. "You're not being kept here."
"I understood that no one was allowed to leave the house!"
"Did you, sir? Not from me, I'm sure. Of course, I shall want your address, but I shouldn't dream of keeping you here."