Two days after the interview with Markfield and his colleague at the Croft-Thornton Institute, Inspector Flamborough came into Sir Clinton's office, obviously in a state of faint trepidation.
“I've arrested Silverdale this morning, sir,” he announced in a voice which betrayed that he was not quite sure whether this step would meet his superior's approval.
The Chief Constable exhibited neither surprise nor disapproval at the news.
“I shouldn't care to say that you've got a complete case against him, Inspector. Not yet, at any rate. But he's got himself to thank for his troubles; and now I expect things will begin to move a bit quicker in the case. Mr. Justice will be calling up his last reserves.”
Flamborough seemed to feel that his action needed some justification, though Sir Clinton had asked for none.
“Well, sir, it seems to me we had to forestall a possible bolt on Silverdale's part. There's quite enough evidence to justify his detention on suspicion in the meantime.”
“There's just one point I'd like to know about,” Sir Clinton said, disregarding the Inspector's statement. “You've got four deaths to choose from. Which of them are you going to select as your main case? You can hardly put him on trial for all four simultaneously. There's nothing against it legally, but you'd confuse the jury, I’m afraid.”
“I thought the bungalow business would be best, sir. There's a fair chance of establishing a motive in it; whereas in the Heatherfield affair there's only conjecture as to what he was after; and in the Whalley case we simply haven't got enough evidence apart from the jacket, unless we can prove that Silverdale was the bungalow murderer. And if we can prove that, then there's no need to enter into the Whalley case at all.”
Sir Clinton acquiesced with a nod.
“The bungalow affair is the key to the whole series,” he admitted without qualification.