夜雨聆风When he arrived it was in his most cantankerous mood.
“So we’ve got it, have we?” he said. “You know, sir, you shouldn’t keepthings to yourself. If you’d any reason to believe you knew where the art-icle in question was hidden, you ought to have reported it to the properauthorities.”
“It was a pure accident,” I said. “The idea just happened to occur to me.”
“And that’s a likely tale. Nearly three-quarters of a mile of woodland,and you go right to the proper spot and lay your hand upon it.”
I would have given Inspector Slack the steps in reasoning which led meto this particular spot, but he had achieved his usual result of putting myback up. I said nothing.
“Well?” said Inspector Slack, eyeing the suitcase with dislike and wouldbe indifference, “I suppose we might as well have a look at what’s inside.”
He had brought an assortment of keys and wire with him. The lock wasa cheap affair. In a couple of seconds the case was open.
I don’t know what we had expected to find—something sternly sensa-tional, I imagine. But the first thing that met our eyes was a greasy plaidscarf. The Inspector lifted it out. Next came a faded dark blue overcoat,very much the worse for wear. A checked cap followed.
“A shoddy lot,” said the Inspector.
A pair of boots very down at heel and battered came next. At the bottomof the suitcase was a parcel done up in newspaper.