“I think on the whole,” said the Inspector, “we had better send for these people.”
Fletcher remained silent, and the Inspector took this for acquiescence. He rang his bell, and an officer appeared.
“Tell Sergeant Andrews,” he said “to motor in at once and bring out the landlord of the Black Horse, and his wife, and get the name of the fisherman whom Mr. Halley says was with him on the night of the murder.”
The officer saluted and went out.
There was an awkward pause. The Inspector had not any special liking for the interference of Scotland Yard, and was rather pleased with the prospect of proving their envoy in the wrong.
“Can you help us to throw any light whatever on this mysterious matter?” he said to Halley.
“I could say a good deal,” said Halley, “but while I am an accused person I refuse to make any statement whatever.”
“Then I may take it that you have information which might lead to the detection of the criminal and are deliberately withholding it?”
“Which criminal?” said Halley.
The Inspector gave an impatient gesture. “You know what I mean, the murderer of Lord Reckavile.”