“In a sense I suppose it was,” the other acknowledged.  “I turned him out of the house.”

The inspector did not attempt to conceal his gratification.  He made a voluminous note in his pocketbook.

“Am I to conclude, then, that there was a quarrel?” he enquired.

“I do not quarrel with people to whom I pay a salary,” Tallente replied.

“When you say that you turned him out of the house, that rather implies a quarrel, doesn’t it?  It might even imply—­blows.”

“You can put your own construction upon it,” was the cool reply.

“Had you any idea where the honourable Anthony Palliser was going to?”

“I suggested the devil,” Tallente confided blandly.  “I expect he will get there some time.  I put up with him because I knew his father, but he is not a young man to make a fuss about.”

The inspector was a little staggered.

“I am to conclude, then,” he said, “that you were dissatisfied with his work as your secretary?”

“Absolutely,” was the firm reply.  “You have no idea what a mess he was liable to make of things if he was left alone.”

The inspector coughed.

“Mr. Tallente, sir,” he said, “my instructions are to ask you to disclose the nature of your displeasure, if any, with the Honourable Mr. Anthony Palliser.  In plain words, Scotland Yard desires to know why he was turned away from his place at a moment’s notice.”

“I suppose it is the duty of Scotland Yard to be inquisitive in cases of this sort,” Tallente observed.  “You can report to them the whole of the valuable information with which I have already furnished you, and you can add that I absolutely refuse to give any information respecting the—­er—­difference of opinion between the young man and myself.”

The inspector did not conceal his dissatisfaction.

“I shall ask, you, sir,” he said with dignity, “to reconsider that decision.  Remember that it is the police who ask, and in cases of this sort they have special privileges.”

“As soon as any criminal case arises from Anthony Palliser’s disappearance,” Tallente pointed out, “you will be in a position to ask me questions from a different standpoint.  For the present I have given you just as much information as I feel inclined to.  Shall we leave it at that?”

The inspector appeared to have become hard of hearing.  He did not attempt to rise from his chair.

“Being your private secretary, sir,” he said, “the Honourable Anthony Palliser would no doubt have access to your private papers?”

“Naturally,” Tallente conceded.

“There might be amongst them papers of importance, papers whose possession by parties in the other camp of politics—­”

“Stop!” Tallente interrupted.  “Inspector Gillan, you are an astute man.  Excuse me.”

He crossed the room and, with a key which he took from a chain attached to his trouser button, opened a small but powerful safe fitted into the wall.  He opened it confidently enough, gazed inside and remained for a moment transfixed.  Then he took up a few little packets of papers, glanced them through and replaced them.  He still stood there, dangling the key in his hard.  The inspector watched him curiously.