“Because we haven’t looked for him.”
Lomas gave an impatient laugh. “This is absurd, my dear fellow. That pallid, tame cat of a man!”
“You let some of your fellows sniff round him.”
“My dear Fortune! Of course they have. He’s quite a blameless sort of fellow. Plays a bit, spends a bit—nothing more.”
“Oh, he wanted money—did he?”
“My dear Fortune, you’re right off the wicket. He had an alibi. He was with some people at Maidenhead at the time of the murder.”
“Oh, my aunt, anybody can have an alibi,” Reggie grumbled.
Lomas laughed and shook his head. “It won’t do, Reginald. Don’t try to be subtle.”
“Well, that isn’t your complaint,” Reggie snarled, and for once they parted in nasty tempers.
Three days afterwards a telephone message called him to Scotland Yard, and he found Lomas in conference with Superintendent Bell.