“I don't think so. I believe she's out of town—been away for a couple of days. I'll send a message to find out definitely if you want to know.”
Flamborough shook his head.
“Don't trouble. I can find out for myself.”
“I heard that she would be back the day after to-morrow,” Markfield volunteered. “But you'd better find out for yourself of course.”
Again the Inspector turned to a fresh line.
“Do you know anything about a man Whalley—Peter Whalley?” he demanded.
“Whalley?” Markfield repeated as though trying to recall the name. “Whalley? Oh, yes. He came to me with some story about having been hit by my car on a foggy night. I didn't believe him. I knew I'd hurt no one with the car, though once I came near it that night. Mr. Whalley got no change out of me.”
“He didn't go any further in the matter, then?”
“I heard no more about it. The thing was so obviously a try-on that I didn't even advise my insurance company about it.”
Flamborough reflected for a few moments, obviously trying to think of fresh questions which he could put; but apparently he had come to the end of his stock.