“I see the coroner’s jury brought in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown,” Wendover remarked. “I suppose it’s the only verdict that would fit the case. They seemed to think you’d been rather slack in not having it all cut and dried for them, Clinton. Quite obviously they wanted the murderer’s head on a charger, and they were disappointed when you couldn’t produce the article.”
“I think they were disappointed that we hadn’t given them more evidence than we did,” Sir Clinton suggested with a certain indifference in his tone. “They seemed to imagine that the whole affair had been got up for their amusement—so that half of them could take on the post of Sherlock-on-the-Pounce. They can pounce away to their heart’s content if they wish. I’m not stopping them. But it isn’t my business to supply them with spring-boards, though they seemed to think so. All I wanted was to get the formalities through without too much jaw. And the coroner, decent man, saw to that for me.”
“What about your own swoops and pounces, before you wax ironical about these unfortunate yokels? It doesn’t seem to me that you’ve got very much farther than they’ve done, after all. What about it, Clinton?”
Sir Clinton laughed teasingly.
“The Hackleton case is dragging along still,” he said, with the obvious intention of changing the subject. “Shandon’s junior isn’t making much out of it, so far as I can see. Old man Hackleton has every reason to be content with the removal of Neville Shandon. He’s having it all his own way in the case now—far too clever for the poor barrister. He’ll get off scot-free, or I’m much mistaken.”
Wendover refused to be led away on this fresh trail.
“Seriously,” he said, “you don’t seem to be doing much on this Whistlefield case. You’ve just been loafing about these last few days.”
Sir Clinton did not defend himself. In fact, he went out of his way to underline Wendover’s complaint.
“And to-night I’m actually dragging you off to play bridge at Whistlefield, eh? Well, the invitation didn’t originate with me. It came from Miss Hawkhurst. I admit that I angled for it in a somewhat unprincipled way—gave her to understand that the company of a sour old bachelor was getting on my nerves here, that I’d welcome a little bright feminine society, and that the society of herself and Miss Forrest had just the very kind of brightness that the case needed.”
“She must have felt flattered!” Wendover commented ironically.