But the inspector denied any intention of losing money even on such an attractive proposition as Coffee Grounds seemed to be.
"Well, I don't suppose you've come to warn me about ready-money betting?"
The inspector grinned. No; he wanted to know if Murray had ever known a man called Albert Sorrell.
"Never heard of him," said Murray. "Who is he?"
He was a bookmaker, Grant thought. "Course?"
Grant did not know. He had an office in Minley Street.
"Silver ring, probably," said Murray. "Tell you what. If I were you, I should go down to Lingfield today, and you can see all the silver-ring men in one fell swoop. It'll save you a lot of touting round."
Grant considered. It was by far the quickest and most logical method, and it had the additional advantage of offering him a knowledge of Sorrell's business associates which the mere obtaining of his home address would not have done.
"Tell you what," Murray said again as he hesitated, "I'll go down with you. You've missed the last train now. We'll go down in my car. I have a horse running, but I couldn't be bothered to go down alone. I promised my trainer I'd go, but it was such a beast of a morning. Have you had lunch?"
Grant had not, and Murray went away to see about a lunch basket while Grant talked to the Yard on his telephone.