One seldom does the right thing in moments of great emergency. As an innocent man I suppose I ought to have started back and exclaimed, "Good heavens! What is the meaning of this outrage?" But, to tell the truth, I did nothing of the kind.
I stared blankly at my new friend for a moment, and then suddenly burst into a peal of laughter which I was quite unable to suppress. My mirth seemed to infect Billy, who sat down on the railings and chuckled like a fool.
The Inspector's face was a joy!
"I'm awfully sorry," I jerked out at last. "Suppose we go inside?"
Still keeping his hand on my shoulder, the Inspector stepped back, and Billy and I followed him into the hall—the former shutting the door behind us.
"Now," I said, "perhaps you'll be kind enough to explain."
As I spoke, there was a sound of heavy footsteps, and a police constable came tramping down the staircase.
The Inspector looked at me with a not unfriendly interest.
"There is not much to explain, sir. I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Mr. Stuart Northcote, and it is my duty to inform you that anything you say now will be used in evidence against you."
"But what makes you think Mr. Northcote is dead?" I inquired.