“We’ll have some supper at the village ‘pub,’ my dear Lake,” said Cleek in a loud, clear voice that carried to every corner of the deserted garden, “and then come back to the Towers long enough to pack up our traps and clear out of this haunted house altogether.  The case is one too many for me, and I’m chucking it.”  Mr. Narkom opened his mouth to speak, but his colleague gave him no opportunity.  “It’s a bit too fishy for my liking,” he went on, “when the only clues a man’s got to go on are a dancing flame and a patch of charred grass—­which, by the way, never struck me as particularly interesting at the best of times—­and when evidence points so strongly toward young Merriton’s guilt.  All I can say is, let’s go.  That’s the ticket for me.”

“And for me also, old man!” agreed Mr. Narkom, emphatically, following Cleek’s lead though rather in the dark.  “It’s back to London for me, whenever you’re ready.”

“And that’ll be as soon as Dollops can pack my things and get ’em off to the station.”

CHAPTER XXII

A NEW DEPARTURE

The question of packing was a very small matter altogether, and it was barely seven o’clock when, this finished, Cleek and Mr. Narkom had collected their coats and hats from the hat-stand, given Borkins the benefit of their very original ideas as to closing up the house and clearing out of it as soon as possible, each of them slipped a sovereign into his hand, and were standing talking a short while at the open front door.  The chill of the evening crept into the house in cold breaths, turning the gloomy hall into a good representation of a family vault.

“All I can say,” said Cleek, chewing a cigar, his hands in his trousers’ pockets, and his feet rocking from toe to heel, “is—­get out of it, Borkins, as soon as you can.  I don’t mind tellin’ you, I’m jolly glad to be clearin’ out myself.  It’s been a devilish uncanny business from first to last, and not much to my taste.  Now, I like a decent robbery or a nice, quick-fingered forger that wants a bit of huntin’ up.  You know, even detectives have their particular favourites in the matter of crime, Borkins, and a beastly murder isn’t exactly in my line.”

Borkins laughed respectfully, rubbing his hands together.

“Nor mine, sir,” he made answer.  “Though I must say you gentlemen ’aven’t been a bit what I imagined detectives to be.  When you first come down, you know, I spotted something different about you, and—­”

“Ought to be on the Force yourself!” supplemented Cleek.

“And not such a bad callin’ neither!” returned Borkins with a grin.  “But I knew you wasn’t what you said you was, in a manner of speakin’.  And if it ’adn’t been for all this unpleasantness, it would ’ave bin a nice little change for yer, wouldn’t it?  Sorry to see the last of you, sirs, I am that.  And that young gentleman of your’n.  But I must say I’m glad to be done of the business.”