Barker's jaw dropped just a little. "What's wrong?" he said. "It's the clearest case the Yard has had for some time."
"Yes; on the surface. But, if you dig a bit, there seems to be more than meets the eye."
"What do you mean? That there was more than one in it?"
"No; I mean that there's just the barest possibility that we've got the wrong one."
For a little there was silence. "Grant," said Barker at last, "I never knew you to lose your nerve before. You need a holiday. I don't think scooting across moors can be good for you. Perhaps the jogging movement is addling to the brain. You certainly have lost your critical faculty."
Grant could find nothing to say except "Well, here's the statement he gave us last night," and he handed it over. While Barker was reading it, he crossed to the window, gazed at the patch of green and the river in the sun, and wondered if he were making a complete fool of himself to be worrying when he had a good case. Well, fool or no fool, he would go along to Waterloo as soon as his chief had finished with him, and see what he could pick up there.
When Barker dropped the statement with a little flop on to the table, Grant turned eagerly to see what effect it had had on him. "Well," said that worthy, "it leaves me with a strong desire to meet Mr. Lamont."
"Why?" asked Grant.
"Because I'd like to see in person the man who tried sob-stuff on Inspector Grant and got away with it. The unimpressionable Grant!"
"That's how it strikes you, is it?" Grant said gloomily. "You don't believe a word of it?"