But the Sergeant refused to be drawn.
“All the same, we should like to know where you were during the evening and whether you spoke to any one who could identify you during that time.”
“Who was I likely to speak to? I tell you I went on a long, cross-country tramp. I don’t suppose I met a soul, certainly not any one who could identify me.”
“Four hours is a long time. You were walking all the time?”
“Yes.”
Leslie spoke curtly. He was tired and the whole thing was beginning to get on his nerves.
“Then, if that’s all you can tell me, Mr. Leslie, I’ll take a look round here. If you’ll step into another room . . .”
Leslie opened his mouth as though about to say something, and then, apparently, thought better of it.
“You’ll find me in the kitchen if you want me,” he volunteered as he went out. “There’s some coffee on the stove for any one who would like it.”
The Sergeant looked after him thoughtfully, then strolled to the door.