Sir Clinton seemed to find nothing further to ask. Wendover stepped into the breach.
“Would you recognise this gunman if you saw him again?”
Cargill shook his head.
“In that light you couldn't have told whether it was a man or a woman, much less recognise 'em.”
Before Wendover could say anything more, the door opened and Dr. Rafford came in, followed by Inspector Armadale.
“H'm!” said Sir Clinton. “I don't think we need trouble you any more just now, Mr. Cargill. By the time the doctor's fixed you up you'll not want to be bothered with an inquisition, I suspect. I'll drop in to-morrow and see how you're getting on. Good night. I hope it's not a bad business.”
He turned to Armadale.
“You needn't worry Mr. Cargill, inspector. I've got the whole story, and can tell you what you need.”
Wendover and Armadale followed him from the room, leaving the doctor to do his work undisturbed. Sir Clinton led the way to his own room, where he gave the inspector the gist of what they had learned.
“And now, inspector,” he concluded, “perhaps you'll tell us how you managed to pop up so opportunely. How did you come to hear of this affair?”