“No, sir. I don't suppose he's hurrying. The inquest was adjourned, you remember; and until they bring in some verdict excluding suicide, Spratton can't do much. There's a suicide clause in the policy, I learned. But if it pans out as a murder, then Spratton's £5,000 in pocket.”
“In fact, Inspector, Mr. Justice is doing a very good bit of work for Dudley Amyas Guisborough & Co.”
Flamborough seemed struck by an idea.
“I'll go and pay a call on Mr. Spratton, I think. I'll do it now.”
“Oh, he's a local light, is he?”
“Yes, sir. He was mixed up in a case last year. You won't remember it, though. It never came to much. Just an old man who fell into Spratton's hands and was driven to suicide by the damnable rapacity of that shark. Inspector Ferryside had to look into the matter, and I remember talking over the case with him. That's how it sticks in my memory.”
“Well, see what you can make of him, Inspector. But I shan't be disappointed if you come back empty-handed. Even if he were mixed up in this affair, he'll have taken good care not to leave a straight string leading back to his front door. If it was a case of murder for profit, you know, there would be plenty of time to draw up a pretty good scheme beforehand. It wouldn't be done on the spur of the moment.”
Chapter IX.
The Creditor
Inspector Flamborough's orderly mind found something to respect in the businesslike appearance of the moneylender's premises. As he waited at the counter of the outer office while his card was submitted to the principal, he was struck by the spick-and-span appearance of the fittings and the industry of the small staff.
“Quite impressive as a fly-trap,” he ruminated. “Looks like a good solid business with plenty of money to spend. And the clerks have good manners, too. Spratton's evidently bent on making a nice impression on new clients.”