“Passable,” I answered, with affected indifference.
“Then they are not a shady family at all?” suggested the detective.
“Not in the least. That is why the fact of Mrs Blain having taken the house is so surprising.”
“It may have been sub-let,” Cleugh observed. “Her friends from abroad may not have arrived after all, and she might have re-let it, a circumstance which seems most likely, as no one appears to have seen her enter the place.”
“At any rate it’s most extraordinary,” I said. Then, turning to Boyd, I asked, “Why not leave the inquiry in that quarter to me? Knowing her, I can obtain information far more easily than you can.”
“Yes,” Cleugh urged. “It would be a better course—much better.”
“Very well,” answered the detective, not, however, without some hesitation. “But be careful not to disclose too much. Try and find out one fact only—the reason she took the house. Leave all the rest to us.”
I promised, and after drinking together over in the refreshment bar at High Street Station we parted, and Cleugh and I took a bus back to our chambers.
He stopped in Holborn to buy some last editions of the papers, while I hurried on, for, being terribly hungry, I wished to give old Mrs Joad early intimation of our readiness for the diurnal steak.
With my latch-key I entered our chambers. The succulent scent of grilled meat greeted my nostrils, and I strode eagerly forward shouting for the Hag.