“Mrs. Irvin’s disappearance? Don’t worry, sir. Without exactly having a theory I think I may say that in my opinion she will turn up presently.”
“God bless you,” murmured Irvin, as Kerry assisted him out on to the landing.
Inspector Whiteleaf held back the sliding door, the mechanism of which had been broken so that the door now automatically remained half closed.
“Funny, isn’t it,” said Gunn, as the two disappeared and Inspector Whiteleaf re-entered, “that a man should be so upset about the disappearance of a woman he was going to divorce?”
“Damn funny!” said Whiteleaf, whose temper was badly frayed by contact with Kerry. “I should have a good laugh if I were you.”
He crossed the room, going in to where the surgeon was examining the victim of this mysterious crime. Gunn stared after him dismally.
“A person doesn’t get much sympathy from the police, Brisley,” he declared. “That one’s almost as bad as him,” jerking his thumb in the direction of the landing.
Brisley smiled in a somewhat sickly manner.
“Red Kerry is a holy terror,” he agreed, sotto voce, glancing aside to where Coombes was checking his notes. “Look out! Here he comes.”
“Now,” cried Kerry, swinging into the room, “what’s the game? Plotting to defeat the ends of justice?”