“Have they got anything out of him?”
“I don’t know. Except for old Gunnet, they’re a close-mouthed lot. The fellow’s safe enough, at all events. Literally tied by the leg in the infirmary at Whitbury. He was run down by a silly young ass on a motor bike and got his ankle badly smashed. I gather that he was up at the farm that night, meant to sleep there. Something seems to have frightened him off at the last minute. Probably the arrival of the police. If he does turn out to be the chap that did it, Leslie’s troubles are over.”
“Leslie’s solicitor is coming to-day and I’m by way of meeting him. I suppose he will be allowed access to this man if he wants to see him?”
“I imagine so. Can I be of any use? I’m for Whitbury after this and can run you over in about half an hour’s time.”
Fayre accepted the invitation, glad of the chance to talk to the man, of all others, most likely to know the neighbourhood well. Gregg had not impressed him very favourably at the inquest and he did not take to him now. As a witness he had seemed almost surly; to-day, no doubt in an effort to be agreeable, he was garrulous and, at the same time, ill at ease. Fayre knew that he had the reputation of being a clever doctor, though something of a vulgarian.
Lord Staveley joined him as he was collecting his hat and coat in the hall and confirmed his impression of the man.
“Clever chap, Gregg,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sorry to have him on hand when Sybil’s here. It’s always a bit of a responsibility and I sometimes think Kean would murder us if anything happened to her. Amazing, the way the fellow’s wrapped up in her. Never would have thought he was that sort. My wife’s about the one person he’ll trust to look after her. Thank goodness, Gregg’s dependable.”
“A queer fellow,” commented Fayre thoughtfully. “A bit of a rough diamond, isn’t he?”
Lord Staveley laughed.
“Very much so. Didn’t get on with the old women round here at all at first. However, the old chap at Whitbury is such a dud that they had to come round. Now they swear by him. He’s a self-made man. Son of a vet up in the North, so they say.”