I shut the door in his face; he taking my cavalier treatment of him more meekly than he was wont to do. Perhaps he remembered.
Mr. Symonds immediately assailed the lamblike Mr. Morley.
“I believe that your name is Morley; and that you are in the service of Mr. Philip Lawrence. What information have you to give with reference to the murder of his brother?”
“Mr. Morley has no information to give.”
It was I who answered.
“Let Mr. Morley speak for himself.”
“Permit me to repeat, Mr. Symonds, that these premises are private; and before I allow you, on these premises, to bully a guest of mine, I must request you to show me the authority on which you are acting.”
Inspector Symonds looked me up and down, as if he did not know exactly what to make of me. He seemed to hesitate.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RECOGNITION OF THE PHOTOGRAPH
When I had succeeded in extricating Mr. Morley from the clutches of Inspector Symonds, after a considerable wordy warfare, during which I had difficulty in keeping the inspector’s language within parliamentary bounds, I started on a little errand of my own.