He tramped backwards and forwards, enveloped in smoke. Once he halted and tore at the bell.
A waiter came.
“Go to my room, No. 11, and bring me a leather dressing-case, marked ‘R.B.’ Run! I give you twenty seconds. After that you lose sixpence a second out of your tip.”
He pulled out his watch. The man dashed along the corridor, much to the amazement of a passing chamber-maid. He returned, bearing the bag in triumph.
“Seventeen seconds! By the law of equity you are entitled to eighteenpence.”
Brett produced the money and led the gaping waiter out of the room, promptly shutting the door on him.
“He’s a rum gentleman that,” said the waiter to the girl.
“He must be, to make you hurry in such fashion. Why, you wouldn’t have gone faster for a free pint.”
“I consider that an impertinent observation.” With tilted nose the man turned and cannoned against Hume.
“Here!” cried the latter. “Run to the stables and get me a horse and trap. If they are ready in two minutes I’ll give you two shillings.”
“Talk about makin’ money!” gasped the waiter, as he flew downstairs, “this is coinin’. But, by gum, they are in a hurry.”
Brett unlocked his bag and took from it the book of newspaper cuttings.
“Ah!” he said, after a rapid glance at his concluding notes. “I thought so. Here is what I wrote when the affair was fresh in my mind:—
“’Why were no inquiries made at Stowmarket to learn what, if any, strangers were in the town on New Year’s Eve?
“’Most minute investigations should be pursued with reference to Margaret Hume-Frazer’s friends and associates.
“’Has Fergusson ever been asked if his master received any visitors on the day of the murder or during the preceding week? If so, who were they?
“What is the precise purpose of the knife attached to the Japanese sword? It appears to be too small to be used as a dagger. In any case, the sword scabbard would be an unsuitable place to carry an auxiliary weapon, to European ideas.’
“Now, I wonder if Fergusson is still at the Hall? The other matters must wait.”
Winter returned about the same time as Hume. Brett and the latter dressed for dinner, and the adroit detective, not to be beaten, borrowed a dress-suit from the landlord, after telegraphing to London for his own clothes.
During the progress of the meal the little party scrupulously refrained from discussing business, an excellent habit always insisted on by Brett.
They had reached the stage of coffee and cigars when a waiter entered and whispered something to the police officer.
“‘Rabbit Jack’ is here,” exclaimed Winter.
“Capital! Tell him to wait.”
When the servant had left, Brett detailed his proposed test. He and Hume would go into the hotel garden, after donning overcoats and deer-stalker hats, for Hume told him that both his cousin and he himself had worn that style of headgear.