“I don’t put my money on what is likely,” Pepster interrupted. “I’ve been had that way. I once had a case of the theft of a diamond ring. There were only three men possible—a bookmaker who’d once been in prison for horse-doping, a defaulting bankrupt and a clergyman. I arrested the horse-doper and kept an eye on the bankrupt, but it was the parson who had the ring.”
“You ought to write your reminiscences,” I remarked dryly.
“I am looking forward to doing so when my pension falls due,” Pepster returned, entirely unabashed. “But, now, let’s talk business. The warrant isn’t for Thoyne himself, but for Tulmin. Thoyne will come into it later—accessory after or before the fact, you know. Tulmin will do to be going on with.”
“You think Thoyne has taken Tulmin on board the yacht with him?”
“I don’t know—perhaps—perhaps not. But Thoyne has spirited Tulmin away somehow, somewhere. Isn’t that clear? And why has he done it?”
“Yes, I know, you explained before that Thoyne had paid Tulmin to murder Sir Philip—”
“No, Mr. Holt, that was your theory,” Pepster explained patiently. “And you said you didn’t believe it. No, Thoyne may have done the murder himself, or he may not, and Tulmin may have spotted him at it. But, to tell the truth, I’m not worrying about that just now. It is Tulmin I want. There’s enough against him to be going on with, anyway, and I mean to get him and to learn why Thoyne carried him off. Will you come down to Ilbay with me?”
“Ilbay?”
“Yes, the yacht’s there.”
“When do you go?”