“That all I had to do was to ask Brett, and he would not only give me a detailed history of my own actions, but produce the very man he sent me in search of,” interrupted David, laughing. Nothing the barrister said or did could astonish him now.
“What has upset you?” he went on. “I hope I made no mistakes.”
“None. Your conduct has been irreproachable. But you erred greatly in the choice of your parents. There are far too many Hume-Frazers in existence.”
“Please tell me what is the matter?”
“Read those.” Brett tossed the detective’s telegrams across the table.
Hume puzzled over them.
“I think we ought to know who that fat man was,” he said.
“We do know. She is a fat woman, the ex-barmaid from Ipswich. Next time, they will send out the youthful Jiro in a perambulator.”
“But why are you so furious about it?” demanded Hume. “Was it so important to ascertain what she did during that hour and a quarter?”
“Important! It is the only real clue given us since ‘Rabbit Jack’ saw a man like you standing motionless in the avenue.”