Could it be that he knew his House and Estate Agent better than we did--knew his vanity, dullness, and the risks of basing a charge on his unsupported word? No doubt he had questioned Westbury in terms far more explicit than those he had used to us. Unless Westbury had actually put his hand inside Rooke's pocket, probably all he could swear to was that the pocket contained something heavy. Not until late in the same afternoon had the bullet been found. Suppose Webster had said to Westbury, "Not so quickly, my friend; you said nothing about a pistol at the time; it only became a pistol when the bullet was found; we can't go putting the cart before the horse like that; evidence is evidence; you can't let half a day pass and then remember things to fit the Case; _you_ may feel sure of a thing, but could you make a jury sure?" Suppose he had said something like this? The police too are bound by the probabilities of conviction. It is no credit to them to fail on a charge. And a man who can say, "Was it indeed, sir?" when informed of the identity of a distinguished King's Counsel who has expressly announced himself only a few hours before is emphatically not the man to think that he can make a jacket for a large gooseberry by skinning a small-sized flint. V "Now what was his game, do you think?" Monty asked again. "He was giving you a piece of wholesome advice," I answered promptly. "But 'You stop adopting things; you might--ahem!--blow your fingers off.' He said it like that. I haven't put in the 'ahem.' That was his. It looks to me as if he knew about that pistol." "It has very much that look," I agreed blandly. "But how? I can't understand yet how Esdaile knew, but this Police Inspector----!" "'Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive,'" I murmured. "You never can tell, Monty." "Oh, stop burbling. How do you suppose he did know?" "Let me see. You told Philip it was his keys that made your pocket bulge so, didn't you?" "Oh--if you're just going to rot me----" "I'm not rotting you. I've a feeling that if you'd told Inspector Webster the same thing he'd have been happy and delighted to believe you." "But how does he know _any_thing about what's in my pocket?" said the bewildered Monty.... Should I tell him? Why not? I had studiously avoided anything that might have reminded him of Mrs. Cunningham. Pluckily as he had taken himself in hand, I did not think that that wound was healed. But the episode of the pistol was another matter. I felt singularly and perhaps not quite justifiably light-hearted about that. The mists of the Case were perceptibly thinning. What he had just told me about Inspector Webster let still a little more sun through them. To all appearances the Inspector had dismissed Monty with a quite characteristic admonition. And that being so, it was perhaps his due that I should not leave Monty altogether unarmed in the event of any contingency with Westbury.