Wendover thought he detected something behind the phrase.
“What do you think?” he demanded.
Sir Clinton looked at him mildly.
“I think it’s about time we were going to bed, Squire. We may have to be up early to-morrow. At least, I may.”
Chapter IX.
The Burglary at Whistlefield
When Sir Clinton came down to breakfast on the following morning, Wendover thought that he looked tired and worried, though he was doing his best to show his normal composure.
“You look as if you’d been up all night, Clinton; and yet you cleared me off to bed fairly early.”
The Chief Constable forced a smile, but it was obvious that he had something on his mind which was troubling him.
“Not all night,” he said, qualifying Wendover’s suggestion by a slight emphasis. “But I’ve certainly lost a good deal of sleep over this Whistlefield business.”
“I can’t see what you’ve got to worry about just now,” his host retorted. “Until one gets more evidence than we have just now, there’s nothing that can be done, so far as I can see. You practically admitted as much yourself, last night.”