“He wanted to make some inquiries there.”
“Inquiries?” She looked at him steadily, but as he did not offer further information she had to put her anxiety into words. “About this comb?”
“As a matter of fact, I am not fully in his confidence,” said Marsland with a constrained smile. “Crewe is a man who keeps his own counsel. He has to, in his line of business.”
She was not quite sure that a rebuke was contained in this reply, but she gave herself the benefit of the doubt.
“Does Mr. Crewe know that I was at Cliff Farm that night?” she asked.
“No. I thought I made my promise on that point quite definite.”
“You did,” was her candid reply to his undoubted rebuke. “But I will release you from that promise if you think you ought to tell him.”
“I am under no obligation to tell him anything more than I have told the police.”
“I thought that perhaps the fact that your uncle has brought Mr. Crewe into the case might make a difference.”
As he made no reply to that suggestion she branched off to something else that was in her mind: