“I like that girl,” was Grey’s enthusiastic comment. “She’s keen. We’ll get Leslie off, if only for her sake.”
“We don’t look much like doing it at present,” said Fayre rather hopelessly. “It seems to me that until we can get Gregg to account for that extra hour he spent getting from Whitbury to Hammond’s farm we’re pretty well stuck. And, if he won’t speak we’re not in a position to make him.”
“I can’t for the life of me see any connection between Gregg and the Page car,” said Grey thoughtfully.
“There is none. Of that I feel convinced. My opinion is that Page simply turned up the lane and, finding it a cul-de-sac, came back again. He may have seen something, but I don’t believe he took Mrs. Draycott to the farm.”
“The tramp seemed to think there was a woman in the car, though, the first time it passed him.”
“He was very vague about it and admitted he could hardly see the occupants. I believe we ought to concentrate on Gregg.”
Grey deliberated for a moment.
“I’m not sure that I agree with you,” he said at last. “Gregg’s not behaving like a guilty man. I fully expected that he’d make a break for the boat-train, instead of which he’s gone quite openly to the address at which he always stays, according to his servants, when he comes to town. He may have come up merely to get legal advice.”
“Lady Cynthia’s certainly got a strong feeling that this man Page is implicated,” admitted Fayre.
“I think she’s right and her suggestion that the car may have been stopped if it ran to London with a broken number-plate is quite sound. We can work on that, anyhow.”