“Last night and this morning are two different things,” Sir Clinton pointed out, rather gloomily. “A lot may happen in six hours.”
“Well, if they have happened, they have happened; and you couldn’t have prevented them happening.”
“That sounds like a truism,” the Chief Constable commented, “and I wish it were one. But it isn’t.”
He seemed almost on the verge of a confidence at last; but to Wendover’s disappointment he contented himself with adding:
“I’ve taken a big risk in this affair, Squire; and if the game goes against me, I’d never be able to forgive myself. It’s as serious as that.”
From his tone, it was evident that he was gravely perturbed; and Wendover could find nothing to say which seemed likely to be helpful.
In a moment or two, Sir Clinton broke the silence.
“They’re on the ’phone at Whistlefield, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Are you expecting a message?”
“One never can tell,” was all that Sir Clinton would vouchsafe. “Can you hear your telephone bell from this room?”