"Possibly."
"But the driver would have heard."
"He probably would; but he didn't."
"Ye-e-es."
Carroll resumed his inspection of the body, examining every detail of figure and raiment; and while he worked he talked.
"You know something about this chap?"
"More or less. He's prominent socially; belongs to clubs, and all that sort of thing. Has money—real money. Bachelor—lives alone. Has a valet, and all that kind of rot. Owns his car. Golfer—tennis-player—huntsman. Popular with women—and men, too, I believe. About thirty-three years old."
"Business?"
"None. He's one of the few men in town who don't work at something. That's how I happen to know so much about him. A chap who's different from other fellows is usually worth knowing something about."
"Right you are! But that sort of a man—you'd hardly think he'd be the victim of—hello, what's this?"