While the doctor was cleaning and disinfecting the wounds, Marden addressed himself to the Chief Constable.
“I forgot to say, sir, that when I got back to the house I found Mr. Foss’s car waiting for him. I said a word or two to the chauffeur as I passed. It only struck me afterwards that this might be important. I forgot about it at the time.”
“Quite right to tell us,” Sir Clinton confirmed.
“The second thing was what the chauffeur told me. He’d been ordered to wait for Mr. Foss, it seems; and he got the idea that Mr. Foss was leaving Ravensthorpe this afternoon for good. I was surprised by that; for I’d heard nothing about it from Mr. Foss.”
He flinched slightly with the smart of his wounds, as Greenlaw washed them carefully.
Sir Clinton seemed to be struck by a fresh idea.
“Before the doctor bandages you up, would you mind if we took your finger-prints, Marden? I’m asking every one to let us take theirs, and this seems to be the best chance we shall have of getting yours, you see? Of course, if you object, I’ve no power to insist on it.”
“I’ve no objections, sir. Why should I have?”
“Then you might take impressions of the lot, Inspector,” Sir Clinton suggested. “Don’t spend too much time over it. We must get the bandages on this hand as quick as possible.”
Inspector Armadale hurried away for his outfit and soon set to work to take the valet’s finger-prints. While he was thus engaged a fresh suggestion seemed to occur to Sir Clinton.