“Yes, most inconsiderate of him to confess just when you’d arranged to clap the darbies on another man. Lucky for you you hadn’t said anything to Marryatt about it.”
“Well, the fact is, I had.”
“You had?”
“Yes, I’ve just been talking to him from the steward’s office, through that confounded metaphone thing. I told him the whole story, as we had put it together——”
“I pass the we.”
“And I told him he must own up. He had no chance of saying anything down the tube, of course, and now it seems he has bolted for London.”
“Bolted! Why, of course, that was why he was making streaks for the station at about sixty miles an hour. Good Lord, Reeves, you have done it? I believe you’ve convinced Marryatt, by sheer logic, that he’s a murderer, when he’s nothing of the kind.”
“No, but I say, do you really think he’s bolted?”
“Looks like it, doesn’t it? Very much like the old story of the man who telegraphed to the Bishop to say ‘All is discovered; fly at once.’ Poor old Marryatt must have a guilty conscience about something, mustn’t he? I wonder if he’s been embezzling the collections? I should think it would be worth about a fortnight in quod, embezzling the Paston Oatvile collections. My ball, I think.”
“I wish you’d take this thing seriously.”