“I’m getting hungry, Mr. White of Scotland Yard, and I’ve a kind of notion that the old lady is ready with the eatables. Will you be good enough to say what you’re after?”

“I came here to ask you to account for your movements, and, failing a satisfactory explanation, to arrest you.”

“On what charge?”

“For being concerned in the murder of Lady Dyke, on or about November 6 last.”

“Lady Dyke?”

“Yes.”

“Arrest me?”

“Yes.”

“I placed you right away. You are a blamed idiot, Mr. White of Scotland Yard.”

This repetition of his name and address goaded the detective almost beyond endurance.