Then he submitted this report:
"He says nothing new, Crown. Far as I can make out, nothing unusual waked him up that night—except chronic nervousness; he turned on that light to find some medicine; he knew nothing of the murder until Judge Wilton called him."
"Humph!" growled Crown. "And you fall for that!"
Hastings eyed him sternly. "It's the statement I'm going to give to the reporters."
The sheriff was silent, irresolute. Hastings congratulated himself on his earlier deduction: that Crown, unable to frighten Sloane into communicativeness, was thankful for an excuse to withdraw.
Hendricks had reported the two-hour conference between Crown and Mrs. Brace late that afternoon. Hastings decided now: "The man's in cahoots with her. His ally! And he won't act until he's had another session with her.—And she won't advise an arrest for a day or two anyway. Her game is to make him play on Sloane's nerves for a while. She advises threats, not arrests—which suits me, to a T!"
He fought down a chuckle, thinking of that alliance.
Crown corroborated his reasoning.
"All right, Hastings," he said doggedly. "I'm not going back to his room. I gave him his chance. He can take the consequences."
"What consequences?"