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"Ay, an' some men's, too," guffawed Hobbs. "Wot about Peggy Smith, Fred?" Elkin blew a mouthful of cigarette smoke at the butcher. "What about that tough old bull you bought at Knoleworth on Monday?" he retorted. Hobbs's face grew purple. Mr. Franklin beckoned to Tomlin. "Ask these gentlemen what they'll have," he said gently.
That evening, shortly before seven o'clock, a stalwart, prosperous-looking gentleman in tweeds "descended" from the London express at Knoleworth. The local train for Steynholme stood in a bay on the opposite platform, and this passenger in particular was making for it when he nearly collided with another man, younger, thinner, bespectacled, who hailed him with delight. "You, too?
Peters had gobbled his chop before Franklin entered the dining-room, but they met later in the snug, where Elkin was being chaffed by Hobbs anent his carryin's on in Knoleworth the previous night. Siddle came in, but the chatter was not so free as when the habitués had the place to themselves.
There's someone coming. You and I must not be seen together." Robinson made off, and Winter lounged along the Knoleworth road. He met Bates, going to the post with letters. Naturally, Bates looked him over. Returning from the post office, he kept a sharp eye for the unknown loiterer, but saw him not. He even walked quickly to the bend of the road, but the other man had vanished.
What between the inquest, an' no food, an' more than a few drinks at Knoleworth, I'd have passed Owd Ben himself without seeing him, though I believe I did squint in at The Hollies as I went by." "What time would that be?" "Oh, soon after eleven." "Sure." "I can't be certain to ten minutes or so. The pubs hadn't closed when I left Knoleworth. What the devil does it matter, anyhow?"
That is what every man decides who faces a legal inquiry as a novice. It is a decision too often regretted in the light of after events. Meanwhile, P. C. Robinson was hard at work. In his own phrase, he "took a line," and the trend of his thoughts was clearly demonstrated when a superintendent motored over from Knoleworth in response to a telegram.
"Just to prove it, he now informs you that Siddle, finding trade slow, has called on Mr. John Menzies Grant!" The lawn front of The Hollies was not visible from the upper story of the Hare and Hounds owing to a clump of pines which had found foothold on the cliff, but, through the gap formed by the end of the post office garden, the entrance to the house from the Knoleworth road was discernible.
Who knows but that a stroll through Cornhill may have some bearing on the Steynholme mystery?" "May be you'd get a bit nearer if you took a stroll along the Knoleworth Road, and not so very far, either," guffawed Elkin. "Who knows?" repeated Furneaux sadly. "Good-day, gentlemen. Some of this merry party will meet again, of course, if not here, at the Assizes. Don't forget my bill. Mr. Tomlin.
Really, I have known men brought to the scaffold on circumstantial evidence little stronger than that. Instead of glaring at me like a cornered rat you ought to drop on your knees and thank providence, as manifested through the intelligence of the 'Yard, that you are not now in a cell at Knoleworth, ruminating on your own stupidity, and in no small jeopardy of your life."
Jefferson's frugal habits, since Furneaux had omitted no item of his movements in Steynholme, remembered it later during the nightly gathering in the inn. Elkin greeted Mr. Franklin respectfully when the great man joined the circle. "Did you see anything worth while at Knoleworth, sir?" he said. "No. I was unlucky. All the principals were at a race meeting." "By gum! That's right.
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