“I am glad of that; perhaps your mental faculties are beginning to move. I suppose these clothes are Lawrence’s?”
“I can prove that; he was wearing them when I saw him last.”
“Oh, he was, was he. When did you see him last?”
“Last night.”
Hume glanced quickly up at me.
“Last night? At what time?”
I considered for a moment.
“I don’t remember particularly noticing, but I should say that it was about half-past eleven when I left him, or perhaps a little after.”
“Half-past eleven? Then I should say that within an hour of that time he was dead; perhaps within less than an hour. That’s very odd.”
“Why is it odd?”