Tommy nodded contentedly. "I can wait," he observed; "it's a habit
I've cultivated where Neil's concerned."
We all clambered into the car, and, slipping in his clutch Latimer set off at a rapid pace in the direction of Queenborough. It was not until we had rounded the first corner that he opened the conversation.
"How did you know about Marks?" he asked, in that easy drawling voice of his.
"I didn't know for certain," I said quietly. "It was more or less of a lucky shot."
Then, as he seemed to be waiting for a further explanation, I repeated to him as briefly as possible what Sonia had told me about McMurtrie's reason for visiting London.
"I didn't go into all this in my letter to you," I finished, "because in the first place there was only just time for Joyce to catch the train, and in the second I didn't want to disappoint her in case it should turn out to be all bunkum. You must have been rather amazed when I suddenly sprung it on McMurtrie."
He shook his head, smiling. "Oh no," he said—"hardly amazed." He paused. "You see, I knew about it already," he added placidly.
If there was any amazement to spare at that moment it was certainly mine.
"You knew about it!" I repeated. "You knew that McMurtrie had killed
Marks?"
He nodded coolly. "You remember telling me in the boat that your friend Miss—Miss Aylmer, isn't it?—had recognized him as the man she saw at the flat on the day of the murder?"