“Have you ever seen your father definitely under the influence of liquor?” asked Whyland.
“Why no, not to say actually squiffy. He’d talk freer than usual, and imagine all sorts of yarns about things that never happened. I think he got the black sailor on his brain sometimes. When he first got the counter he made up his mind that the black sailor was going to get him. But the last day or two he’s been much more cheerful. Of course, it’s possible that this evening, when he was alone, it got on his mind again.”
The conversation was interrupted by the return of Waters, the detective. “I’ve searched as best I can for that syringe, sir, and I can’t find it,” he reported. “I’ll have another good look as soon as it gets light, if you like, sir.”
“Yes, do,” replied Whyland. “Now, you were supposed to be watching this place all the evening. What time did Mr. Copperdock come in?”
“Between nine and ten, sir. Two fellows came with him, and the three stood talking at the door for a minute or two. Then they all went in, and the door was shut behind them. It was close on eleven when it opened again, and the two men came out. Mr. Copperdock came downstairs with them, I saw him just inside the door talking to them. Then they went away, and the door was shut again. A few minutes after they had gone I saw a light come on in this room.”
“You can’t see into the room from the opposite pavement, I suppose?”
“Only a bit of ceiling, sir. I noticed the window was open at the top, and the curtains not properly drawn, like you see them now, sir. They’ve never been properly drawn since I’ve been watching the house. The next thing that happened was that Mr. Copperdock’s son came along at about a quarter past twelve, and let himself in with a key.”
Inspector Whyland turned to Ted. “What time did you go out?” he asked.
“About eight o’clock. Dad was just getting ready to go round to the Cambridge Arms.”
“Where were you between eight and a quarter past twelve?”