"No, I don't think so, Sergeant. I want to tabulate all these statements, and think the thing out a bit. And I want also to see Mrs. Chudleigh. But you needn't come with me there if you'll explain just where the Vicarage is."
"You want to see Mrs. Chudleigh, sir?"
"Of course I want to see her. Where does she live?"
"At Lyndhurst," replied the Sergeant. A slow grin spread over his solemn countenance. "I'm bound to say, sir, I hadn't thought of her, but I wouldn't put it above her and no more would most of them who knows her. She's a tartar, that's what she is."
"What I want to see Mrs. Chudleigh about," explained Harding patiently, "is to find out from her whether she heard or saw anyone in the study yesterday when she passed that side window."
"Yes, sir. It was only my little joke," said the Sergeant, abashed.
When Harding arrived at the Crown, having dropped the Sergeant at the police station, it was close on seven o'clock. He went straight into the dining-room, and had dinner. With the exception of one old gentleman seated at the far end of the room, he was the only diner at that early hour, and was able in the vault-like silence to study his notes while he ate. The knowledge of his identity had reached every one in the hotel by this time, in that mysterious manner peculiar to small country towns, and the waiter hovered about him with respectful assiduity while various other members of the staff, including two awe-struck chambermaids, peeped at him through the service-door. As he remained quite unconscious of the interest he was creating, this did not discompose him in the least. He continued to study his notes, and ordered black coffee, and an old brandy. Shortly after this the Chief Constable looked into the dining-room, and seeing Harding, came over, and sat down at his table. This was very thrilling, and the chef, who had till then taken very little interest in the Inspector, was moved to peep into the dining-room also.
Major Grierson, who was wearing evening-dress under a light overcoat, explained that he was on his way to a dinner-party in the immediate vicinity, and had just dropped in to have a word with Harding.
"Delighted, sir," said Harding, and beckoned to the waiter, who came up with great alacrity.
The conversation between the detective from London and the Chief Constable was, however, somewhat disappointing.