But Farrow had more to say. It had been his happy lot during many hours to figure bravely in the Fenley case, and he carried himself as a valiant man and true to the end.
"I think I heard you mention Mr. Hilton," he went on. "I met Dr. Stern in the village, an' he tol' me Mr. Hilton had borrowed his car."
Furneaux stood up.
"Continue, Solomon," he said, and Winter sighed with relief; the little man was himself again.
"That's all, gentlemen, or practically all. It struck me as unusual, but Dr. Stern said Mr. Hilton's motor was out o' gear, an' he wanted a car in a desp'rit hurry."
"He did, indeed!" growled Furneaux. "You're quite sure there is no mistake?"
"Mistake, sir? How could there be? The doctor was walkin' home. That's an unusual thing. He never walks a yard if he can help it. Mr. Hilton borrowed the car to go to St. Albans."
"Did he, indeed? Just how did he come to find the car waiting for him?"
"Oh, that's the queer part of it. Dr. Stern is lookin' after poor old Joe Bland, who's mighty bad with—there, now, if I haven't gone and forgotten the name; something-itis—and Mr. Hilton must have seen the car standin' outside Bland's house. But what was he doin' in Roxton at arf past twelve? That's wot beats me. And then, just fancy me stubbin' my toe against this!"
Again he displayed the rifle as if it were an exhibit and he were giving evidence.