No one does, I think."
"You've invited him to tea, at any rate," laughed Winter.
"No," said Doris. "He invited himself. At least, so I gathered from dad."
"Ah, well. He feels lonely, no doubt, and wishes to chat about recent
strange events in Steynholme. And that brings me to the reason why I
sought this chat under such peculiar conditions. You realize my handicap,
Miss Martin? If I were seen talking to you, or even entering your house
as apart from the post office, people would begin to wonder. You follow
that, don't you?"
Yes, Doris did follow it. What she did not follow was the veiled
admiration in Superintendent Fowler's glance at the detective. Those few
inconsequential questions had shed a flood of light on Siddle's past and
present, yet the informant was blissfully unaware of their real purport.
And the way was opened so deftly. The purchase of a chemist's business
would almost certainly be negotiated through a local lawyer. Let him be
found, and Siddle's pre-Steynholme days could be "looked into," as the
police phrase has it. The superintendent had the rare merit of being
candid with himself. He had no previous experience of Scotland Yard men
or methods, and was inclined to be skeptical about Furneaux.
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