It was a foolish remark, and Robin regretted it the moment the words had left his mouth.
“Well, yes,” commented the detective slowly, “I am. I shall be well posted on the whole of this case, presently, I hope, sir!”
His manner was perfectly respectful, but reserved almost to a tone of menace.
“In that case,” said Robin, “I’ll tell you something you don’t know, Mr. Manderton. Has Bude told you what he heard after I had passed him in the hall?”
Interest flashed at once into the detective’s face. He turned quickly to the butler. Robin felt he had scored.
“What did you hear?” he said sharply.
Bude looked round wildly. His large, fish-like mouth twitched, and he made a few feeble gestures with his hands.
“It was only perhaps an idea of mine, sir,” he stammered,—“just a sort of idea ... I dare say I was mistaken. My hearing ain’t what it was, sir....”
“Don’t you try to hoodwink me,” said Manderton, with sudden ferocity, knitting his brows and frowning at the unfortunate butler. “Come on and tell us what you heard. Mr. Greve knows and I mean to. Out with it!”
Bude cast a reproachful glance at Robin. Then he said: