“I’ve got appointments with several people this morning,” Sir Clinton said, sharply. “Ardsley’s another of them. You needn’t start suspecting everyone, Squire, or you’ll have a busy time. No! No questions till later!”
He stepped forward and greeted the secretary.
“Where’s the gun-room, Stenness? It may be as well to pick up something useful!”
The secretary led them down some passages. If he was surprised by Sir Clinton’s methods, he showed no visible sign. When they reached the gun-room, each selected a shot-gun and ammunition under Sir Clinton’s orders. Wendover noticed that the Chief Constable picked out a couple himself.
“One’s for Ardsley,” he explained in answer to Wendover’s glance of surprise. “Come along! He’ll be waiting for us outside, I expect.”
When they reached the front door again, Ardsley was just stepping out of his car. Sir Clinton motioned him back into the driving seat and directed the others to get into the motor.
“The Maze, if you please, Ardsley,” he said, when they had seated themselves.
Wendover was completely at sea for a few moments. It was plain that both Ardsley and Stenness must be regarded as cleared in the eyes of the Chief Constable, or he would not have brought them there and taken the trouble to arm them. But if they were excluded, the murderer must belong to a very small group. And suddenly Wendover saw his way through the whole intricacy of the Whistlefield case.
“Of course! Young Torrance! He’s the man!”
But he was careful not to utter his views aloud, fearing to draw the fire of Sir Clinton, who was sitting beside him with drawn brows. Wendover felt it better to pursue his line of thought silently.