Sir Clinton broke off his story and glanced at his watch.
“We’ve kept Inspector Armadale up to a most unconscionable hour,” he said, apologetically. “We really mustn’t detain him till sunrise. Before you go, Inspector, you might tell us if my solution fits the confession you got out of Brackley—in the later stages, I mean.”
Inspector Armadale saw his dismissal and rose to his feet.
“There’s really nothing in the confession that doesn’t tally, sir. Differences in detail, of course; but you were right in the main outlines of the affair.”
Sir Clinton showed a faint satisfaction.
“Well, it’s satisfactory enough to hear that. By the way, Inspector, you’d better take my car. It’s in the avenue still. Send a man up with it, please, when you’ve done with it. There’s no need for you to walk after a night like this.”
Armadale thanked him; declined Cecil’s offer of another whisky and soda; and took his departure. When he had gone, Cecil threw a glance of inquiry at the Chief Constable.
“Do you feel inclined to tell us what you made of my doings? I noticed that you didn’t drag them out in front of the Inspector.”
Sir Clinton acquiesced in the suggestion.
“I think that’s fairly plain sailing; but correct me if I go wrong. When you heard of Maurice’s disappearance, you saw that something was very far amiss. You had a fair idea where he might be, but you didn’t want to advertise the Ravensthorpe secrets. So you came back one night and went down there. I don’t know whether you were surprised or not when you found him; but in any case, you decided that there was no good giving the newspapers a titbit about secret passages. So you took him out into the glade by the other entrance to the tunnel; and then you came up to Ravensthorpe as though you’d come by the first train. The Inspector tripped you over that point, but it didn’t matter much. He doesn’t love you, though, I suspect. I’d no desire to make matters worse by interfering between you; for you seemed able to look after yourself. Wasn’t that the state of affairs?”