“I'd like to hear anything you can tell me about young Hassendean, sir. He worked here in the Institute, didn't he?”
“That depends a good deal on what precise meaning you attach to the word ‘work,’ Inspector. He certainly loafed about the premises, but he did as little as he could.”
“Well,” said Flamborough, impatiently, “can you tell me anything else about him? Everyone I've interviewed yet has told me he was idle. I'd rather have something more to the point.”
Silverdale thought for a moment or two.
“He was a nuisance from the start. When he came here first—some three years ago—he spent his time hanging round one of the girl-assistants: Miss Hailsham. He interfered with her work, and I had to speak to him about it several times. Then she got engaged to him. Some time after, my wife took him up, and he broke off his engagement to Miss Hailsham—possibly to please my wife. I remember it made things rather unpleasant here when the engagement was broken, because Miss Hailsham took it rather badly. She'd every reason to do so, though she wasn't losing much, it seemed to me.”
Inspector Flamborough pricked up his ears at this information.
“Is this Miss Hailsham still an assistant here?” he asked.
“Yes,” Silverdale explained. “She's one of my private assistants. I have several girls who do routine work; but Miss Hailsham and Miss Deepcar—the girl who came in here a moment ago—are a shade better than the usual run.”
“Could you make an excuse to let me have a look at Miss Hailsham?” Flamborough inquired.
“She's not here to-day,” Silverdale answered. “Off with a sore throat, or something of that sort. But if you'll come back another time, I can take you to her room if you wish. You can pose as a visitor whom I'm showing round, if you don't want to appear officially.”