“How?”
“Well, you see, I’d been watching these three papers for a long time, and I’d come to a definite conclusion that there was one man behind all the attacks. I told Hoode so, and he laughed at the idea! That made me as mad as hell. I’ve always had a foul temper, but since the war, y’know, it’s really uncontrollable. I mean I actually can’t help it.”
“I know,” Anthony nodded.
“That’s all. I cursed him for a blind, pig-headed, big-headed fool, and he sacked me. He couldn’t very well do anything else. I still feel very bitter about it; though not quite so much now he’s dead. He was such a brilliant cove in some ways, but so blasted silly in others. Simply wouldn’t listen to what I had to say—and I was sweating to benefit him!”
“ ‘Zeal, all zeal, Mr. Easy!’ ” said Anthony.
“Exactly; but zeal’s a damn good thing at times, ’specially in private secretaries, and being turned down like that made me brood. I really couldn’t help it, you know. After I got the sack I brooded to such an extent that I simply went to pieces. Drank too much. Made an idiot of myself. I say, Lucia’s told me all about things, and I want to thank——”
“You can do that best,” Anthony interrupted, “by keeping on about Hoode and these press-cuttings. I’ve made some conclusions about ’em myself, but you know more.”
A slight flush rose to the sallow cheek of the man in bed. He turned restlessly.
“When I come to think of it,” he said nervously, “I don’t know a great deal. “Mostly surmise, and from what I’ve heard of you I should say you’re better at that game than I am.”
Anthony grew grim. “Some one’s been exaggerating. You fire ahead. The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll be able to get away and leave you in peace.”