The Chief was unusually exuberant. Mr. Marigold found him surrounded, as was his wont, by papers, and a fearsome collection of telephone receivers. He listened in silence to Mr. Marigold’s account of his failure to trace Barling.
“Marigold,” he said, when the other had finished, “we must undoubtedly lay hold of this fellow. Let’s see now... ah! I have it!”
He scribbled a few lines on a writing-pad and tossed it across to the detective.
“If your friend’s innocent,” he chuckled, “that’ll fetch him to a dead certainty. If he murdered Mackwayte, of course he won’t respond. Read it out and let’s hear how it sounds!”
The Chief leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette while the detective read out:
“If Gunner Barling, etcetera, etcetera, will communicate with Messrs. Blank and Blank, solicitors, he will hear of something to his advantage. Difficulties with the military can be arranged.”
“But I say, sir,” objected Mr. Marigold, “the military authorities will hardly stand for that last, will they?”
“Won’t they, by Jove” retorted the Chief grimly. “They will if I tell ’em to. No official soullessness for me; thank you! And now, Marigold, just ask Matthews to fill in Barling’s regimental number and all that and the name and address of the solicitors who do this kind of thing for us. And tell him we’ll insert the ad. daily until further notice in the Mail, Chronicle, Daily News, Sketch, Mirror, Evening News...”
“And Star,” put in Mr. Marigold who had Radical tendencies.
“The Star, too, by all means. That ought to cover the extent of your pal’s newspaper reading, I fancy, eh, Marigold! Right!”