"Well, you don't need to worry about him, sir, because I know where he is, which is all that matters."
"Where?" Stephen demanded.
"Locked up," replied Hemingway. "That's what I came to tell you."
"Good God!" said Stephen. "I hand it to you, Inspector: I thought you had let him slip through your fingers. He must have heard what we were saying in the library, and made a bolt for it. Where did you pick him up?"
"Oh, I didn't pick him up!" Hemingway answered. "Sergeant Ware arrested him at Frickley junction nearly a couple of hours ago. Somehow I thought he might have been doing a bit of eavesdropping, so I left Ware to keep an eye on him. And a very instructive time he had, doing it. Your Uncle Joseph, sir, left the house by the garden door, all unobtrusive-like, and carrying a suitcase, not twenty minutes after I'd gone myself. I won't bother you with all the details, but I'll tell you this: when he came out of one of the potting-sheds, which was where he made for first, poor Ware thought he was seeing things, or else it was a lot darker than what he'd thought it was. Talk of talented performances! Why, by the time your Uncle Joseph had dolled himself up in a nice brown wig, and moustache, and had darkened his eyebrows, Ware tells me you wouldn't have believed it could be the same man."
"Old theatrical props!" said Stephen.
"I wouldn't wonder. Luckily, Ware's sure, even if he isn't quick, and as soon as he found that there weren't any snakes or pink rats about, he kept right on after your uncle. The first chance he had to telephone through to me was at Frickley junction, where they'd got to by a slow train. Not properly heated either, judging by Ware's remarks. By that time, I'd had a highly instructive chat with the police-surgeon, not to mention another highly instructive chat with a pathologist, who'd been putting some scraps of that stair-carpet of yours through a few tests. And what that chap had to say about being dragged out on Boxing Day is nobody's business!"
"Blood?" Stephen asked.
"That's right, sir. Same group as Mr. Herriard's, found by me where the blow was struck. Probably a couple of drops from the knife, since Mr. Herriard hardly bled at all externally. That being that, and various items adding up to the required total, I told Ware to arrest your Uncle Joseph on a charge of murdering his brother, and to bring him along, instead of catching another slow train up to London, which was what he'd been afraid he'd have to do. And now, if you don't mind, sir, I've got to see Mrs. Herriard, and break the news to her."
"Just a minute!" said Stephen. "How the devil did you get on to it?"