"Oh, yes, as if it was forced," Reggie smiled.
"What do you mean?" The Inspector flushed.
"You see, you're so witty, Mordan," said the Superintendent.
"And that's that," Reggie yawned. "You don't really want me any more. Good-bye. Oh, Inspector—I don't want you to be disappointed. The murder wasn't done in that room where you found the body. Good-bye!"
"Wasn't done" The Inspector stared after him. "Good Lord, he's mad!"
"Better get him to bite you, Mordan," said the Superintendent.
••••••
That party did not meet again till the day of the inquest. Before the court met, Superintendent Bell called on Reggie and found him in a bad temper. This was unusual, and equally unusual in the Superintendent's experience was a pallor, a certain tension, across Reggie's solid, amiable face. A civil question about his health brought a snappish answer. It seemed to the Superintendent that Dr. Fortune had been making a night of it.
"Well, what is it?" Reggie snarled. "Got anything to tell me?"
"I've been rather disappointed," the Superintendent said meekly.
"More fool you. I told you to watch Ford."
