Winter nodded. When Furneaux and he were in pursuit of a criminal they dropped all nice distinctions of rank. If one made a suggestion the other adopted it without comment unless he could urge some convincing argument against it.
"Mr. Fenley should give his orders now," added Furneaux.
Winter explained his wishes to the nominal head of the household, and Fenley's compliance was ready and explicit.
"These gentlemen from Scotland Yard are acting in behalf of Mrs. Fenley, my brother and myself," he said to the assembled servants. "You must obey them as you would obey me. I place matters unreservedly in their hands."
"And our questions should be answered without reserve," put in Winter.
"Yes, of course. I implied that. At any rate, it is clear now."
"Brodie," said Furneaux, seeming to pounce on the chauffeur, "you were seated at the wheel when the shot was fired?"
"Ye—yes, sir," stuttered Brodie, rather taken aback by the little man's suddenness.
"Were you looking at the wood?"