“Nothing unusual. We talked a bit, had a whisky and soda, lighted a fresh cigar, perhaps——”
“Ah!” remarked Blick. “That reminds me of another question. Were you all smoking cigars?”
“No,” replied Lansbury. “Von Eckhardstein was smoking a pipe. He said cigars made his insomnia worse.”
“Well—you left at about three o’clock, I think?” suggested Blick.
“About that. Markenmore was going across country to a station called Mitbourne: we said we would walk a little way with him. We left by the French window: it was then beginning to get grey in the sky—you could see things. We walked up the road, past the village cross and the old church. A little further on, I remembered that I had bought a local railway time-table at Selcaster on arriving there the previous evening. I pulled it out, and on consulting it, found that I could get a train at Selcaster soon after four o’clock which would get me to Southampton and Salisbury, and thence on to Falmouth. I decided to catch it, and said I shouldn’t bother about returning to the inn. Markenmore then pointed out a footpath which, he said, led across the meadows to Selcaster, and advised me to take it; he himself, he remarked, was going by another, exactly opposite, on the other side of the road, which made a short cut over the downs to Mitbourne station. We then bade each other farewell, and parted. I took the footpath to Selcaster; Markenmore took the other, up the hillside; von Eckhardstein went with him, observing that he would walk a little more before turning in. The last I saw of them they were rounding the corner of a high hedge, together, in close conversation.”
“And that’s all you know?” said Blick.
“That is all I know,” answered Lansbury. “All!”
A pause in the conversation ensued: Blick began to pace the room again, thinking. The Chief Constable, who, during the whole of Lansbury’s narrative, had occupied himself in drawing apparently aimless lines on his blotting-pad, laid down his pen, sat back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling; he, too, was apparently in deep thought. But it was he who first broke the silence.
“I suppose von Eckhardstein is a wealthy man?” he said, turning to Lansbury.
“He enjoys that reputation in financial circles,” replied Lansbury. “You may safely say he is!”