“I'm not certain of that,” answered Mitchington. “I made some inquiry and I find that Collishaw is usually a very sober and retiring sort of chap—he'd been lured on to drink when he let out what he did. Besides, whether I'm right or wrong, I got the idea into my head that he'd already been—squared!”
“Squared!” exclaimed Bryce. “Why, then, if that affair was really murder, he'd be liable to being charged as an accessory after the fact!”
“I warned him of that,” replied Mitchington. “Yes, I warned him solemnly.”
“With no effect?” asked Bryce.
“He's a surly sort of man,” said Mitchington. “The sort that takes refuge in silence. He made no answer beyond a growl.”
“You really think he knows something?” suggested Bryce. “Well—if there is anything, it'll come out—in time.”
“Oh, it'll come out!” assented Mitchington. “I'm by no means satisfied with that verdict of the coroner's inquiry. I believe there was foul play—of some sort. I'm still following things up—quietly. And—I'll tell you something—between ourselves—I've made an important discovery. It's this. On the evening of Braden's arrival at the Mitre he was out, somewhere, for a whole two hours—by himself.”
“I thought we learned from Mrs. Partingley that he and the other man, Dellingham, spent the evening together?” said Bryce.
“So we did—but that was not quite so,” replied Mitchington. “Braden went out of the Mitre just before nine o'clock and he didn't return until a few minutes after eleven. Now, then, where did he go?”
“I suppose you're trying to find that out?” asked Bryce, after a pause, during which the listeners heard the caller rise and make for the door.