‘Where shall we talk?’ continued the little doctor, still timidly. ‘I suppose there must be quite a lot of things you want to ask me?’
Martin pocketed his gun.
‘Look here, Whitby,’ he said. ‘That is the point – there are lots of things. That’s why we’ve come. If you’re sensible you’ll give us straight answers. You know what happened at Black Dudley after you left, of course?’
‘I – I read in the papers,’ faltered the little figure in front of them. ‘Most regrettable. Who would have thought that such a clever, intelligent man would turn out to be such a dreadful criminal?’
Martin shook his head.
‘That’s no good, Doc,’ he said. ‘You see, not everything came out in the papers.’
Whitby sighed. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Perhaps if you told me exactly how much you know I should see precisely what to tell you.’
Martin grinned at this somewhat ambiguous remark.
‘Suppose we don’t make things quite so simple as that,’ he said. ‘Suppose we both put our cards on the table – all of them.’
He had moved a step nearer as he spoke and the little doctor put up his hand warningly.