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"It's very irregular, of course, but I know you well enough to take my chance of a carpeting. I may send a C.I.D. man down as well. I've too much to do in town to think of going myself; but I will advise you of any such step." The motive underlying Inspector Gatton's suggestion was perfectly evident to me and I experienced a feeling of gratitude for the humanity which directed it.
This apprehension was strengthened no doubt by my memories of Gatton's last words as I had been on the point of setting out from Upper Crossleys. "With their Friar's Park base destroyed, Mr. Addison," he had said, "they will be forced to fly to that other abode, at present unknown, from which I believe they conducted the elaborate assassination of Sir Marcus.
Gatton's inquiries pointed unmistakably to a suspicion that Sir Marcus's last hours had been spent, if not actually with, at any rate near to Isobel. And since the man who would most directly profit by the baronet's death happened also to be Isobel's fiancé, I foresaw a dreadful ordeal for both if Eric Coverly was not in a position to establish an alibi.
Half fearful of what I should hear, I went to the adjoining room and took up the receiver. Presently: "Hullo! Is that Mr. Addison?" came Gatton's voice. "Yes, speaking. What developments, Gatton?" "Several. I've got the report of the estate-agent and I've seen the stage-doorkeeper of the New Avenue!
That the published paragraph relating to Eric Coverly's alleged evidence was in some way associated with this theory of Gatton's I knew, but of the soundness of his theory I had yet to learn.
But at the moment that I had set pen to paper I had realized the difficulty of expressing, within the scope of a newspaper contribution, the peculiar conditions which ruled in that oddly deserted village. And at Gatton's request I had been most guarded in my treatment of the two abortive attempts made upon my own life by the Eurasian doctor.
I determined presently to confide the strange particulars to my friend, but first I was all anxiety to learn what evidence Marie had given; and that this evidence, to which he had referred had done little more than to increase Gatton's perplexity was clear enough from his expression. Therefore: "Tell me about Marie," I said.
A fierce note of challenge had come into the quiet voice, but Morris looked up and met Gatton's searching stare unflinchingly. "I swear it," he said. "I never was an eavesdropper." "I suggest it was the same woman that Sir Marcus went to see last night?" Gatton continued. The examination of Morris had reached a point at which I found myself hard put to it to retain even a seeming of composure.
By Gatton's orders the room in which that gruesome supper was laid had been left undisturbed and once more we stood surveying the spotless napery and sparkling silver. I listened to the ticking of the clock upon the mantelpiece and stared dully at the wine resting in the ice-pail which now contained nothing but dirty water.
All Gatton's questions had been leading up to this suggestion, as I now perceived clearly enough; and from the cousins' quarrel to Isobel, Eric's fiancée, who was engaged at the New Avenue Theater, was an inevitable step. But: "Possibly, sir," was Morris's only answer. Inspector Gatton stared hard at the man for a moment or so, then: "Very well," he said. "Take my advice and turn in.
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