"But what for? I haven't run over so much as a hen."
"Oh, it's all right. You're wanted as a witness. Never mind why. They'll tell you. The doctor is there, smoking a cigar till you turn up."
"I left him at Joe Bland's."
"Joe Bland has left Boxton for Kingdom Come. And The Towers is half burnt down. Things haven't been happening while you were away, have they?"
"Not half," said Tom.
"No, nor quarter," grinned the policeman to himself when the car moved on. "Wait till you know who you took on that trip, and why, and your sparkin'-plug'll be out of order for a week."
It was as well that the chauffeur had not the slightest notion that he had conveyed a murderer to London when he began to tell his tale to his employer and the detectives. They wanted a plain, unvarnished story, and got it. On leaving the offices in Bishopsgate Street, Fenley asked to be driven to Gloucester Mansions, Shaftesbury Avenue. Tom had seen the last of him standing on the pavement, with a suitcase on the ground at his feet. He was wearing an overcoat and a derby hat, and was pressing an electric bell.
"He tol' me I needn't wait, so I made for the Edgware Road; an' that's all," said Tom.
"Cool as a fish!" commented Furneaux.
"Well, sir, I didn't get hot over it," said the surprised chauffeur.