George cleared his throat portentously.
“Er—when you say you can throw light upon this matter, you mean—?”
“I mean,” said Anthony, “that I was trespassing upon Lord Caterham’s property (for which I hope he will forgive me) last night at about 11:45, and that I actually heard the shot fired. I can at any rate fix the time of the crime for you.”
He looked round at the three in turn, his eyes resting longest on Superintendent Battle, the impassivity of whose face he seemed to appreciate.
“But I hardly think that that’s news to you,” he added gently.
“Meaning by that, Mr. Cade?” asked Battle.
“Just this. I put on shoes when I got up this morning. Later, when I asked for my boots, I couldn’t have them. Some nice young constable had called round for them. So I naturally put two and two together, and hurried up here to clear my character if possible.”
“A very sensible move,” said Battle non-committally.
Anthony’s eyes twinkled a little.
“I appreciate your reticence, inspector. It is inspector, isn’t it?”
Lord Caterham interposed. He was beginning to take a fancy to Anthony.
“Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. This is Colonel Melrose, our Chief Constable, and Mr. Lomax.”
Anthony looked sharply at George.
“ Mr. George Lomax?”