The two men went away through the midnight streets, and kept silence until they were near the door of Jettison's hotel. Then Mitchington spoke.
“Well!” he said. “We've had a couple of tales, anyhow! What do you think of things, now?”
Jettison threw back his head with a dry laugh.
“Never been better puzzled in all my time!” he said. “Never! But—if that young doctor's playing a game—then, by the Lord Harry, inspector, it's a damned deep 'un! And my advice is—watch the lot!”
CHAPTER XX. JETTISON TAKES A HAND
By breakfast time next morning the man from New Scotland Yard had accomplished a series of meditations on the confidences made to him and Mitchington the night before and had determined on at least one course of action. But before entering upon it he had one or two important letters to write, the composition of which required much thought and trouble, and by the time he had finished them, and deposited them by his own hand in the General Post Office, it was drawing near to noon—the great bell of the Cathedral, indeed, was proclaiming noontide to Wrychester as Jettison turned into the police-station and sought Mitchington in his office.
“I was just coming round to see if you'd overslept yourself,” said Mitchington good-humouredly. “We were up pretty late last night, or, rather, this morning.”
“I've had letters to write,” said Jettison. He sat down and picked up a newspaper and cast a casual glance over it. “Got anything fresh?”
“Well, this much,” answered Mitchington. “The two gentlemen who told us so much last night are both out of town. I made an excuse to call on them both early this morning—just on nine o'clock. Dr. Ransford went up to London by the eight-fifteen.