“I’ll be—!” he gasped. “The counterpane has been changed.”
CHAPTER XIII
PRELIMINARY SKIRMISHING
Gerald Armstrong looked inquiringly at Inspector Mitchell as the latter waved him to a chair in the library; then turned his regard to Detective Sergeant Brown. He learned nothing from the Sergeant’s stolid expression and again focused his attention on the latter’s superior officer.
“Sit down, Mr. Armstrong,” directed Mitchell. Taking a chair he planted himself in front of Armstrong, while Sergeant Brown braced his burly figure against a convenient sofa and remained a silent onlooker. “Now, sir, will you kindly tell us why you avoided the inquest on John Meredith?”
“I did not avoid it.”
“No? Well, it appeared that way to us at Headquarters,” replied Mitchell, observing Armstrong’s unconcealed annoyance with relish. A man in a temper might give out valuable information. “And it has been very apparent that you have also avoided an interview with us since then.”
“Well, what of it?” Armstrong assumed a more comfortable position. “Come, Inspector, why worry about the past? Now that I am at leisure I shall be very happy to answer any questions you put to me, provided always,” with a smile meant to be ingratiating, “that it is within my power to answer them.”
“Of course,” dryly. “Why did you leave Ten Acres so precipitately after John Meredith signed those papers on Sunday night?”
“There was nothing precipitate in my conduct,” replied Armstrong, with a slight frown. “I remembered that I had some work to do at home and so went there, intending to return to Ten Acres in time for breakfast on Monday morning.”