Fletcher flushed angrily.
“If all the information that your police officers give me is as accurate as what I have just had, I do not think much of their efficiency.”
“Well, it is no good quarrelling,” said the other “you have tried to pin the crime on to young Sefton, on to Mr. Halley and now I can see you suspect Southgate, though he also has a complete alibi. Who is going to be your next victim?”
Halley got out of the car before he reached Portham, and walked slowly to the Sefton bungalow. Sefton was at The Red Cote, where he worked all day, and Halley knew that Ena would be alone and anxious. He softly approached the house and walked in without knocking, as he had been accustomed to do for some time. There were no signs of the girl in the lounge, and he tapped softly on her door.
“Who is that?” a muffled voice replied.
“It is I, Halley,” he said.
There was a sharp cry from within, and Ena came out; her face showed signs that she had been crying, and she had a strained look, but she came forward with a glad welcome and took both his hands in a frank open manner.
“Oh, I am so glad you are back,” she said “I know it was all a mistake, but how terrible it has been for you.”
He did not let go of her hands, but said quietly:
“And for you too?”