“Now about the photograph,” said the detective. “After I had left Jane Harding with a solemn warning to speak to no one until I saw her again, I made a round of the fashionable photographers and soon obtained an excellent likeness of Sir Charles. I showed it to Dobson, and she said: ‘That is Colonel Montgomery.’ I showed it to the foreman of the furniture warehouse, and he said: ‘That is the image of the man who ordered Mrs. Hillmer’s suite.’ Now, what on earth is the upshot of this business to be? I called at Wensley House, but was told Sir Charles was not in town. Had he been in, I would not have seen him until I had discussed matters with you.”
“That is very good of you, Mr. White. May I ask your reason for showing him this consideration?”
The policeman, who was very earnest and very excited, banged his hand on the table as he cried:
“Don’t you see what all this amounts to? I have no option but to arrest Sir Charles Dyke for the murder of his wife.”
“That is a sad conclusion.”
“And do you believe he killed her?”
“Strange as it may seem to you, I do not.”
“And I’m jiggered if I do either.”
“I—I am greatly obliged to you, White.”
Claude bent his head almost to his knees, and for some minutes there was complete silence. When he again looked at the detective there were tears in his eyes.