“All right, have it your own way,” he said. “How much further does it take us?”
“If I might bring the doctor along to your room, sir, and have a talk?” answered Poole. “That’ll do, you three—many thanks for your help. Kelly if you’re really hurt you’d better show yourself in the surgery.”
“It’s no surgery I’m needing, sir; ’tis a mortuary I’m for.”
The man’s half-doleful, half-laughing face restored even Barrod to good humour.
“I’ll come and take your last wishes when you’re ready, Kelly,” he said.
A minute later the three men were seated at the Chief Inspector’s table.
“I fancy it amounts to this, sir,” said Poole. “The blow wasn’t struck on those steps at all.”
“And the Peake woman’s evidence?” queried Barrod.
“Oh, she’s a looney. No, sir; I don’t understand what that affair on the steps means—I’m convinced it has a meaning; but I believe Sir Garth was struck where he fell.”
Barrod stared at him in silence for several seconds.