"Been resident here long, Mr. Viner?" asked the Inspector as they
emerged. "I noticed that some of my men knew you. I've only recently come
into this part myself."
"Fifteen years," answered Viner.
"Do you know anything of this dead man?"
"Nothing--not so much as your constable knows."
"Policemen pick things up. These ladies, now? It's a most unpleasant
thing to have to go and break news like this. You know nothing about
them, sir?"
"Not even as much as your man knew. I've seen them often--with him, the
dead man. There's an elderly lady and a younger one, a mere girl. I took
them for his wife and daughter. But you heard what your man said."
"Well, whatever they are, they've got to be told. I'd be obliged if you'd
come with me. And then--that fellow you saw running away! You'll have to
give us as near a description of him as you can. What number did my man
say it was--seven?"
Viner suddenly laid a hand on his companion's sleeve. A smart car, of
the sort let out on hire from the more pretentious automobile
establishments, had just come round the corner and was being pulled up at
the door of a house in whose porticoed front hung a brilliant lamp.
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