“It wasn’t raining then; it was a lovely night for a little while, till the second storm came on, and my hat blew off.”
“And when you got in you heard no sound from Mr. Cassavetti’s rooms? They’re just over yours, aren’t they? Nothing at all, either during the night or next morning?”
“Nothing. I was out all the morning, and when I came in I fetched up the housekeeper to help me pack. It was he who remarked how quiet the place was. Besides, the poor chap had evidently been killed as soon as he got home.”
“Just so, but the rooms might have been ransacked after and not before the murder,” Sir George said dryly. “Though I don’t think that’s probable. Well, Mr. Wynn, you’ve told me everything?”
“Everything,” I answered promptly.
“Then we shall see what the other side have to say at the preliminary hearing.”
He chatted for a few minutes about my recent adventures in Russia; and then, to my relief, took himself off. I felt just about dead beat!
In the course of the day I got a wire from Jim Cayley, handed in at Morwen, a little place in Cornwall.
“Returning to town at once; be with you to-morrow.”
He turned up early next morning.