Warburton glared at him insolently. “What took me to Seabourne is no concern of yours, Inspector. You bark up the right tree. And keep barking up it till something comes down. Never mind about me. Concentrate on little Alexis.” “Hold on for a moment. Where did you stay in Seabourne? Give me the address.” “At a dirty little boarding-house, if you want to know—right at the back of the town—kept by a Mrs. Leach—damned good name for her, too,” he added reminiscently, “judged by the terms she charged in relation to the quality of her _cuisine_.” “Give me the exact address, if you please?” ordered Bannister, with growing impatience. “‘Sea View,’ it’s about three miles from the sea, to be exact—that’s the reason for the name, no doubt. Froam Road.” Bannister made an entry in his book. “Not a very great distance, though, from Coolwater Avenue, Mr. Warburton,” he added with a wealth of meaning. “Too big a distance, by God,” raved Warburton. “If only I’d been nearer that swine would never have finished his dirty work. I’d have killed him with these hands!” He swung round on Bannister, passionately. “You can’t be such a fool as to think I’d lay a hand on Sheila Delaney of all people. I loved her far too much to hurt a hair of her pretty head. I worshipped the very ground she walked on.” His eyes caught Bannister’s and held them menacingly. But the Inspector was rapid and ready to counter him adroitly. “You loved her too much—eh? You loved her so much that you haven’t called upon her for months! You’ve never gone near her. How do you explain that, Mr. Galahad?” Warburton’s reply was contemptuous and emphatic. “Haven’t called upon her,” he repeated, the contempt increasing with each word uttered. “When a girl doesn’t want a man—if he’s a sportsman he keeps away. I don’t suppose your education has taught you that much. He doesn’t hang round her with a whine, does he?” Bannister’s temper, however, was badly frayed by now. “It depends,” he blazed. “Your story may be all right, Mr. Warburton. On the other hand it may not. I can assure you, it will have to be pretty strictly investigated.” “When you like and where you like, Inspector Bannister. Go through it with a small tooth-comb. That cackle won’t put any wind up me.” He flung out of the room leaving Bannister white and furious. “Well, Mr. Bathurst,” he said at length, “and what do you make of that charming gentleman? An extraordinary story, don’t you think?” “He’s passing through a phase of deep emotion, Inspector,” responded Anthony; “in point of fact, I’m intensely sorry for him. As to his story—it’s more than extraordinary—to me it’s positively conflicting—yet——” “Yet what?” “I think it may prove to be of inestimable help eventually. When I’ve sorted things out a bit I think perhaps there may be a peep of silver lining shining through the clouds.” “Hope to goodness you’re right—although I can’t see it myself.” He rattled the coins in his pocket.