“Hullo, Knox,” he called, running up the steps. “Any developments?”
“No actual development,” I replied, “except that several members of the Press have been here.”
“You told them nothing?” he asked, eagerly.
“No; they were not admitted.”
“Good, good,” he muttered.
“I had expected you long before this, Harley.”
“Naturally,” he said, with a sort of irritation. “I have been all the way to Whitehall and back.”
“To Whitehall! What, you have been to London?”
“I had half anticipated it, Knox. The Chief Constable, although quite a decent fellow, is a stickler for routine. On the strength of those facts which I thought fit to place before him he could see no reason for superseding Aylesbury. Accordingly, without further waste of time, I headed straight for Whitehall. You may remember a somewhat elaborate report which I completed upon the eve of our departure from Chancery Lane?”
I nodded.
“A very thankless job for the Home Office, Knox. But I received my reward to-day. Inspector Wessex has been placed in charge of the case and I hope he will be down here within the hour. Pending his arrival I am tied hand and foot.”
We had walked into the library, and, stopping, suddenly, Harley stared me very hard in the face.
“You are bottling something up, Knox,” he declared. “Out with it. Has Aylesbury distinguished himself again?”
“No,” I replied; “on the contrary. He interviewed Madame de Stämer, and came out with a flea in his ear.”
