“I hope,” said I, “that the occasions for advice are past, and I shall not be so very far away, if you should want to consult me.”
“No,” said Barbara, “and I suppose you will not be away for very long. Shall you come back when your case is finished or shall you stay for the rest of the assizes?”
“I shall probably have some other briefs offered, which will detain me until the assizes are over. My solicitor hinted at some other cases, and of course there is the usual casual work that turns up on circuit.”
“Well,” she rejoined, “we can only wish you good luck and plenty of work, though we shall be glad when it is time for you to come back; and we must be thankful that you were here to help us through the worst of our troubles.”
The general tenor of this conversation, which took place at the lunch table, was not, apparently, to Wallingford’s taste; for he sat glumly consuming his food and rather ostentatiously abstaining from taking any part in the discussion. Nor was I surprised; for the obvious way in which both women leant on me was a reproach to his capacity, which ought to have made my advice and guidance unnecessary. But though I sympathized in a way with his displeasure, it nevertheless made me a little uneasy. For there was another matter that I wanted to broach; one in which he might consider himself concerned; namely, my commission to Thorndyke. I had, indeed, debated with myself whether I should not be wiser to keep my own counsel on the subject; but I had decided that they were all interested parties and that it would seem unfriendly and uncandid to keep them in the dark. But, for obvious reasons, I did not propose to acquaint them with Thorndyke’s views on the case.
The announcement, when I made it, was received without enthusiasm, and Wallingford, as I had feared, was inclined to be resentful.
“Don’t you think, Mayfield,” said he, “that you ought to have consulted the rest of us before putting this private inquiry agent, or whatever he is, on the case?”
“Perhaps I ought,” I admitted. “But it is important to us all that the mystery should be cleared up.”
“That is quite true,” said Barbara, “and for my part, I shall never rest until the wretch who made away with poor Harold is dragged out into the light of day—that is, if there is really such a person; I mean, if Harold’s death was not, after all, the result of some ghastly accident. But is it wise for us to meddle? The police have the case in hand. Surely, with all their experience and their machinery of detection, they are more likely to be successful than a private individual, no matter how clever he may be.”
“That,” I replied, “is, in fact, Dr. Thorndyke’s own view. He wished to leave the inquiry to the police; and I may say that he will not come into the case unless it should turn out that the police are unable to solve the mystery.”