“I may as well, now that I am here.”
She led the way to the door of another room and Crewe entered it. Here, again, there were many indications that the occupant of the room did not expect to be absent for any great length of time. It was smaller than the sitting-room, but it looked very cheerful and cosy. Behind the door a dressing-gown was hanging.
Crewe’s rapid inspection of the room showed him that there was no shaving tackle visible, and that there were no hair-brushes or clothes-brushes on the dressing-table. It was to be assumed from these facts that Mr. Brett had taken his brushes and shaving things with him. As far as appearances went, his departure had not been hurried.
“A very nice set of rooms,” said Crewe. “I think you said you promised to let Inspector Murchison know when Mr. Brett returns. I shall get the inspector to ring me up when he hears from you. There are one or two questions I should like to ask Mr. Brett. When he comes back, will you please tell him I called?”
Crewe’s next act was to get his car and visit the garage kept by Gosford in High Street. Inside the building he saw the proprietor standing by a large grey motor-car in the centre of the garage, watching a workman in blue overalls who was doing something to one of the wheels.
“Not much the worse,” said Crewe, nodding his head in the direction of the grey car, and addressing himself to the proprietor of the garage.
Gosford, a short stout man, looked hard at him as he approached. He was clean-shaven, and his puffed-out cheeks made his large face look like a ball.
Gosford again looked at Crewe out of his little black eyes, but said nothing. His business caution acted as a curb on his natural geniality, for he had learnt by experience of the folly of giving information to strangers until he knew what business brought them into the garage.
“Not much the worse for its accident,” said Crewe. “You were not long in getting it into repair.”
The proprietor’s glance wandered backwards and forwards from the car to his visitor.