“You want to know a lot, young man. And why should I tell you all this?” “Because Carter Woodman is a murderer.” Those small eyes looked at him very suddenly. “H’m,” said Sir John, “and so you think Woodman killed those two fellows at Liskeard House. Is that it, eh? I dare say they were a good riddance.” “I must say you take it very calmly, Sir John.” “In my business, young man, we get used to taking things calmly. Murder is not an uncommon crime.” “But I understood Carter Woodman was a friend of yours.” “If you were my age, young man, and in my profession, you wouldn’t be surprised even if one of your friends committed a murder. But, he’s no friend of mine—now. Carter Woodman would be a good riddance himself. I could have put him in prison for trying to raise money on false pretences.” “Sir John, you will tell me what you know. I have almost certain proof that Woodman did commit murder; but your evidence may be indispensable.” “In that case, I should naturally give it at the proper time—to the police. Why should I give it to you, young man? I never heard of you before. Who are you?” “Only a friend of Sir Vernon’s and of Miss Cowper’s. You probably know my guardian—Mr. Lucas. Miss Cowper and I have been working on the case together.” “Oh, you have, have you? Playing the amateur detective, eh?” “We’ve found out any amount the police don’t know, anyhow.” “Yes. Amateur detectives always do—in the novels. I prefer to say what I have to say at the proper time to the police. It saves complications.” “But, Sir John, the police are absolutely wrong about this. If you will tell me what you know, I will undertake that the police shall be fully informed within the next few days.” “And why not now, young man? Because you want to do it all yourself. Is that it?” “Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn’t, Sir John. But you know best. Let’s telephone to the police to send some one round here, and you can tell them and me together.” “And have the police worrying round here all day till heavens knows when. No, thank you, young man.” Sir John paused, and then went on suddenly. “I suppose you’re going to marry that Cowper girl.” “I don’t think that is any business of yours, Sir John. But I have no objection to telling you that we are engaged to be married.” “Tut, tut, don’t lose your temper, boy. I’m just going to tell you all about it. Woodman came to see me the other night at my club—no, not the Byron: Foster’s, at the corner of Clarges Street. That was at nine o’clock, by my appointment. He was with me for an hour, discussing that loan you seem to know all about. He told me just what I told Sir Vernon in my letter, that Walter Brooklyn had made a will in his favour, and that they were prepared to sign their joint names to a bill. He said that made the loan perfectly safe, on the strength of their expectations from Sir Vernon. That was all he told me.” Sir John stopped. “Is that all you know?” asked Ellery, with an air of disappointment.