"I can give you no assurances about anybody who was behind the scenes. I have my own theory, but it may be all wrong. It's by no means cast-iron and a new development might set us off on a completely new track after any one of them, from Gardener himself down to old Blair. You want me to assure you with my hand on my heart that I am not interested in Gardener. I can't do it. Of course I'm interested in him. He fired the revolver. I might have arrested him there and then. He's one of the mob, and I've got to prove to myself he didn't plant the cartridges. Like everyone else in the case, he isn't volunteering information. As an innocent man he's a fool if he tries to blind the police. He may have a specific reason for doing so. He's in love. Think that out. If you choose, you may tell him the theory as regards Saint, and if he knows anything about Surbonadier's past that may throw light on that theory, and cares to tell you, and you are still on the side of justice—well and good. Otherwise I shall have to ask you to regard me as you would any other detective on his job, and to expect to get no information but the sort of stuff you can publish in your paper. Have I made myself intelligible?"

"Abundantly. I can take a snub with as good a grace as anyone else, I hope," said Nigel miserably.

"I'm sorry you look at it like that. What line do you mean to take?"

"May I think it over? If I decide to pull out, you may be quite sure I shall treat this afternoon's discoveries as entirely confidential. I promised that, anyway. And I'll let you see my copy, of course."

"That's a very fair answer. Let me know at my flat this evening, will you? Now I must ask you both to go."

Nigel followed Fox into the passage. At the door he turned and looked back.

"Well—good-bye for the present," he muttered.

"Good-bye, you old sausage," said Inspector Alleyn.

Fox told the constable at the entrance to the flat to go off. Then he turned to the still discomfited Nigel.

"I dare say you think the Chief's been a bit hard, sir," he ventured, "but you don't want to look at it that way. It's a matter of what you might call professional etiquette. The Chief liked you, you see, and he's so—so blasted honest, if you'll excuse me. His job has to come before anything. Don't you worry about Mr. Gardener. He's been the cat's-paw, and nothing else, and if he starts holding back information he's very foolish."

"I don't think he has done anything of the sort," complained Nigel.