He paused, glancing helplessly at Seton. He had recognized that the first mention of Rita Irvin’s name in the police evidence must be made by himself. “Speak up, sir,” snapped Kerry. “Sergeant Coombes is deaf.” Gray’s face flushed, and his eyes gleamed angrily. “I should be glad, Inspector,” he said, “if you would remember that the dead man was a personal acquaintance and that other friends are concerned in this ghastly affair.” “Coombes will remember it,” replied Kerry frigidly. “He’s taking notes.” “Look here—” began Gray. Seton laid his hand upon the angry man’s shoulder. “Pull up, Gray,” he said quietly. “Pull up, old chap.” He turned his cool regard upon Chief Inspector Kerry, twirling the cord of his monocle about one finger. “I may remark, Inspector Kerry—for I understand this to be your name—that your conduct of the inquiry is not always characterised by the best possible taste.” Kerry rolled chewing-gum, meeting Seton’s gaze with a stare intolerant and aggressive. He imparted that odd writhing movement to his shoulders. “For my conduct I am responsible to the Commissioner,” he replied. “And if he’s not satisfied the Commissioner can have my written resignation at any hour in the twenty-four that he’s short of a pipe-lighter. If it would not inconvenience you to keep quiet for two minutes I will continue my examination of this witness.” CHAPTER VII. FURTHER EVIDENCE The examination of Quentin Gray was three times interrupted by telephone messages from Vine Street; and to the unsatisfactory character of these the growing irascibility of Chief Inspector Kerry bore testimony. Then the divisional surgeon arrived, and Burton incurred the wrath of the Chief Inspector by deserting his post to show the doctor upstairs. “If inspired idiocy can help the law,” shouted Kerry, “the man who did this job is as good as dead!” He turned his fierce gaze in Gray’s direction. “Thank you, sir. I need trouble you no further.” “Do you wish me to remain?” “No. Inspector Whiteleaf, see these two gentlemen past the Sergeant on duty.” “But damn it all!” cried Gray, his pent-up emotions at last demanding an outlet, “I won’t submit to your infernal dragooning! Do you realize that while you’re standing here, doing nothing—absolutely nothing—an unhappy woman is—” “I realize,” snapped Kerry, showing his teeth in canine fashion, “that if you’re not outside in ten seconds there’s going to be a cloud of dust on the stairs!” White with passion, Gray was on the point of uttering other angry and provocative words when Seton took his arm in a firm grip. “Gray!” he said sharply. “You leave with me now or I leave alone.” The two walked from the room, followed by Whiteleaf. As they disappeared: “Read out all the _times_ mentioned in the last witness’s evidence,” directed Kerry, undisturbed by the rencontre. Sergeant Coombes smiled rather uneasily, consulting his notebook. “‘At about half-past six I drove to Bond Street,’” he began.