The inspector knelt down and turned out the suitcase's contents with some care.
“Nothing here of any use,” he said disappointedly when he had finished. “One or two odds and ends. No papers.”
He rummaged in the drawers of the room-furniture with the same lack of success. As he rose to his feet, Sir Clinton turned to Fordingbridge.
“I'd like to see the fourth man of the party,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps you wouldn't mind getting hold of him for me if he's here.”
Wendover and Armadale showed some surprise; but Fordingbridge seemed to see nothing in it.
“That's rather sharp of you. It's just as well we aren't up against you. You mean the man who told me about the boat being wanted? Sorry I can't get him for you. He was a handy-man we brought down with us. Billingford had a row with him last night and fired him, so he took himself off this morning.”
“What was his name?”
Billingford's look of innocence was intentionally overdone.
“His name? Well, I called him Jack.”
“Jack what?”