“The fact is—” he began.
“If you’re going to say what you know about the case, I’ll listen to you,” said the sub-inspector, interrupting him, “if not, go and talk in the street.”
“I am going to say what I know,” said the crestfallen Sam.
“Very well. It’s a pity you couldn’t do it at first,” said the official, getting up and standing with his back turned, warming his hands at the fire.
Under these depressing circumstances Samuel began his story, showing his weakest cards first, and saving up his trumps as long as he could. The sub-inspector listened to him impassively, rubbing his hands, and warming first one toe and then the other in the fender.
At length it was all finished, and he turned round.
“That’s all you know?”
“Yes—at present—I expect to discover more, though, in a day or two.”
“Just write your name and address on one of those envelopes,” said the sub-inspector, pointing to a stationery case on his table.
Sam obeyed, and handed the address to the official.