“Take me at once to the police-station,” I said firmly. “I must make a statement to your inspector on duty.”
“Not much good, is it, if you can’t tell us where the affair took place?” queried the man, impertinently.
“It is my duty to make the report, and the duty of the police to investigate it,” I answered, annoyed, for it seemed as though he doubted me.
“That’s a nasty cut on your hand,” he remarked. “How did you get it?”
“I cut it myself by accident with the knife.”
“What knife?”
“The knife with which the murders were committed.”
“And what were you doing with it?” inquired the constable, utterly regardless of the strict police regulation which forbids an officer to put any such questions.
“I found it,” I replied.
“Where?”