We climbed--the constable and I--a narrow stone stairway somewhere
at the back of New Scotland Yard, and so came to the inspector's
room. Bray was waiting for us, smiling and confident. I remember
--silly as the detail is--that he wore in his buttonhole a white
rose. His manner of greeting me was more genial than usual. He
began by informing me that the police had apprehended the man who,
they believed, was guilty of the captain's murder.
"There is one detail to be cleared up," he said. "You told me the
other night that it was shortly after seven o'clock when you heard
the sounds of struggle in the room above you. You were somewhat
excited at the time, and under similar circumstances men have been
known to make mistakes. Have you considered the matter since? Is
it not possible that you were in error in regard to the hour?"
I recalled Hughes' advice to humor the inspector; and I said that,
having thought it over, I was not quite sure. It might have been
earlier than seven--say six-thirty.
"Exactly," said Bray. He seemed rather pleased. "The natural
stress of the moment--I understand. Wilkinson bring in your
prisoner. The constable addressed turned and left the room, coming
back a moment later with Lieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer. The boy
was pale; I could see at a glance that he had not slept for several
nights.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81