“Hullo, what have you been up to?” asked Bredon, as Leyland entered.
“Why, to tell the truth, I have been shadowing Mr. Pulteney. I must apologize, Mr. Pulteney, but I felt bound to be careful. I’ve had you kept under close observation all this week; and it was only as I stood behind the door, watching your investigations into that car, that I became perfectly convinced of your innocence.”
“What! more suspicion! This is indeed a day! Why, if I had had the least conception that you were watching me, Mr. Leyland, I would have led you a rare dance! My movements, I promise you, should have been full of mystery. I should have gone out every night with a scowl and a dark lantern. I am overwhelmed.”
“Well, I must apologize at least for spying upon your detective work. You do very well for an amateur, Mr. Pulteney, but you are not suspicious enough.”
“Indeed! I overlooked something? How mortifying!”
“Yes, when you took the cushion off that front seat, you failed to observe that there was a neat tear in it, which had been quite recently sewn up. Otherwise I am sure that you would have done what I did just now—cut it open.”
“And is it fair to ask what you found inside?”
“Well, we seem to have gone too far now to have any secrets between us. I feel sure that both you, Mr. Pulteney, and you, Mr. Eames, are anxious to see justice done, and are prepared to help at least by your silence.”
“To be sure,” said Pulteney.
“I am at your service,” said Eames.