“I believe you,” said Fayre simply. “It’s just a bit of bad luck that you and Mr. Leslie got dragged in at all. It’s the third person that’s responsible for all this that I’m anxious to find.”
The man gave him a quick, sidelong glance.
“Is Mr. Leslie the gent what found the body?” he asked.
Fayre nodded.
“ ’E didn’t do it,” affirmed the man with surprising conviction. “I see ’im through the winder when ’e found ’er, like I told the police. Rare taken aback, ’e was. ’E didn’t do it. I could’ve told them that if they’d asked me. The police!”
He spoke with infinite scorn.
“I know he didn’t; but the trouble is to prove it. And what clears him will probably clear you—that’s why I wanted to have a chat with you. You haven’t any theory of your own, I suppose?”
“Not me. I wasn’t nowhere near the place when it ’appened. Didn’t even ’ear the shot, for the matter of that.”
He was talking freely now and Fayre could see that he had managed to gain the man’s confidence and was quick to act on the discovery. He bent forward confidentially.
“There’s absolutely nothing you can remember, no matter how small, that happened while you were waiting at the corner of the lane, is there? The murder was committed while you were lying there and there may be something you didn’t think worth mentioning before. I give you my word I won’t pass it on to the police, unless it’s something that will go towards fastening the guilt on the right person.”