“I know, sir. Do you?”
Anthony laughed. “I do, I do. By the way, can I see him?”
“You can, sir. He asked for you. That’s really what I came up for. That and the walk.”
“Thanks. I’ll take you down in the car. How long before Deacon’s moved to the county jail?”
“He’ll be going to-morrow sometime, sir. Afternoon or evening.”
They walked in silence to the car. Anthony drove out of the gates and down the hill very slowly. Boyd sighed relief: he knew “the colonel’s” driving of old.
“I’m afraid, sir,” he said at last, “that this case has been a disappointment to you, so to speak.”
Anthony looked round at him. “Why so fast, Boyd? Why so fast?” After a moment he added: “Pumps not working too well to-day, are they?”
The detective gave a rumbling chuckle. “I suppose it was a bit obvious, sir,” he said. “But you’re puzzling me, that you are.”
“What am I that I should flummox one of the Big Four? Oh, Fame! Oh, Glory! I stand within your gates.”