‘That’s all very well, but I don’t see how it’s going to help you.’

‘You never know,’ said Hemingway, lifting the cigarette-case out of the crutch, and regarding it with a loving eye.

‘What are you going to do with it?’ asked Colwall.

‘Give it back to young Stephen,’ replied Hemingway coolly.

‘Give it back to him?’

‘That’s right. Then I’ll sit back to watch results.’

‘What results do you expect?’ asked Colwall, out of his depth.

‘I haven’t the least idea, but I hope they’ll be helpful, because this case is beginning to get on my nerves.’

‘Yes, but I don’t see –’

‘Up to now,’ interrupted Hemingway, ‘it must have been obvious to one and all that the hot favourite for the nine-o’clock-in-the-morning stakes was young Herriard, which was a highly satisfactory state of affairs for the real murderer, not calling for any exertion on his part. All he had to do was to lie low, and act natural. Well, now I’m going to let it be deduced that I don’t fancy Stephen after all. Throwing the lead, so to speak. If I know anything about the minds of murderers, I ought to get some interesting reactions.’

Fourteen

The Sergeant, returning from his visit to Galloway’s cottage, came in with a face of settled gloom, and told his chief that it was just as they had feared. Galloway had taken the key home with him, and it was even now hanging up on one of the hooks of his kitchen-dresser.

‘So it doesn’t look as though our man got in through the window at all,’ he said. ‘I suppose you haven’t discovered anything fresh, have you, sir?’

When he learned what the Inspector had, in fact, discovered, he was interested, but inclined to agree with Colwall’s view, that beyond eliminating one of the suspects it was not likely to prove to be of much use. ‘If you ask me, sir, the man who did this job isn’t the sort to lose his head,’ he said.

‘I didn’t ask you, but you’re quite at liberty to have your own opinions,’ said Hemingway tartly. ‘I’ve already had the satisfaction of proving that he can make a silly mistake: well, now we’ll see if he can’t be rattled a bit. So far he’s had it all his own way: he shall have it my way, and see how he likes it.’

‘Are you going up there again this evening, sir?’

‘No,’ said Hemingway, ‘I’m not. This is where I put in a bit of quiet thinking, while that lot up at the Manor wonders what I’m up to. There’s nothing like suspense for shaking a man’s nerve.’

The Sergeant grinned. ‘You wouldn’t, I suppose, be thinking of the turkey they’ve got roasting at the Blue Dog, would you, Chief?’ he ventured.

‘If I have any insubordinate talk from you,’ said Hemingway severely, ‘I’ll give you a job to do up at the Manor that’ll keep you there till midnight. It wasn’t the turkey I was thinking of at all.’