“That’s the third! You’ve got two boxes of mine in your pocket now,” he murmured. “I saw them go in.”
Then, as Fayre turned out his pockets and sheepishly revealed three boxes of matches, he went on:
“Don’t be an old ass, old man, and stop handing round compliments. I like watching you trotting about, so happy and busy! As for asking questions, I never believe in butting in on other people’s affairs. So long as I know you’re on the job, I’m satisfied. And stay as long as you like. If you don’t know how Eve and I feel about that, I’m not going to indulge your vanity by telling you!”
“It’s something to know that I’ve got you both behind me,” said Fayre soberly.
“You can count on that, old chap.”
Bill Staveley had abandoned his usual easy banter and spoke seriously enough now.
“Personally, I’d put my shirt on that boy’s innocence, and I know Eve feels the same. Tell us as much or as little as you like; we don’t care provided you clear him. And if any one can do it, I believe it’s you. Only, if you’ve got any nefarious schemes up your sleeve, remember that I’m a J. P. and keep them to yourself. I don’t want to know anything about them!” Fayre chuckled.
“I must say, you’re a tophole-hogger! When I fall into the hands of the worthy Gunnet, I suppose you’ll turn up looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth and bail me out! If it’s any comfort to you, I’m not contemplating anything of the sort at present. Cynthia may have told you that we’ve got hold of a couple of clues, but they may lead to nothing. Sometimes I think it’s a hopeless business. The only thing I do feel sure of is Leslie’s innocence.”
Lord Staveley nodded.
“Same here, and if he is innocent it ought to be possible to prove it. Has any one thought of digging up that beastly cat?”