Purple-faced with heat and anger, the policeman forgot his surroundings,
and glowered at Grant with real fury. So he heard no one approaching
along the main road until he was hailed a second time with, "Hello,
Robinson!"
He turned sharply. This was Mr. Elkin.
"Good morning!" he said. "Have you seen the superintendent?"
"What? Mr. Fowler? No. Is _he_ here so early?"
"I must have missed him."
"Well, you'll hardly find him on Bush Walk," which was the name of the
path.
"You never can tell," came the dark answer.
At any rate, the policeman elected to abandon his self-imposed vigil, and
the two walked together into the village.
"My! You look as though you'd run a mile," commented Elkin.
"This murder has kept me busy," growled the other, frankly mopping
his forehead.
"Ay, that's so. And it isn't done with yet, by a long way. Pity you
weren't in the Hare and Hounds last night. You'd have heard something.
There's a chap staying there, name of Ingerman--"
"I've met him. The dead woman's husband."
"Oh, perhaps you've got his yarn already?"
"It all depends what he said to you."
"Well, he hinted things. Unless I'm greatly mistaken, you'll soon be
making an arrest.
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