Harding got up. "Thank you, Mrs. Chudleigh; that all I wanted to ask you."
He drove back to the Crown at Ralton, and almost immediately retired to his room. It was not until midnight, however, that he at last put his papers away and went to bed, and by that time he had done much writing, much thinking, and had smoked several pipes.
He visited the police station at nine o'clock next morning, and found the Superintendent in a slightly peevish mood.
"I was expecting you to give me a look up last night," said that worthy austerely.
"Were you?" said Harding. "I hope you didn't wait about for me. Good morning, Sergeant: have you had any bright ideas?"
"No, sir, I can't say that I have," replied the Sergeant. "The more I think of it the more I see that it might have been anybody."
"Well, let's try and work it out a bit," said Harding, drawing up a chair to the table, and opening his dispatch-case. "I'll give you back the statements you took, Superintendent. I think I've tabulated the important points."
The Superintendent took the sheaf of papers, and put them in a drawer. "Of course if you don't want them —"he began in an aggrieved voice.
"They were most valuable. When I got in last night I thought it might help us if I drew up a time-table. Here it is." He laid a neat sheet before the Superintendent and nodded to Sergeant Nethersole. "Come and have a look at it, Sergeant."
"I take it," said the Superintendent ponderously, "that this refers to the morning of the first of July?"