It was
refreshing to know that the omniscient Paul Harley was capable of
pique.
"One, Inspector Aylesbury," he went on, bitterly, "a large person
bearing a really interesting resemblance to a walrus, but lacking that
creature's intelligence. It was not until Superintendent East had
spoken to him from Scotland Yard that he ceased to treat me as a
suspect. But his new attitude was almost more provoking than the old
one. He adopted the manner of a regimental sergeant-major reluctantly
interviewing a private with a grievance. If matters should so develop
that we are compelled to deal with that fish-faced idiot, God help us
all!"
He burst out laughing, his good humour suddenly quite restored, and
taking out his pipe began industriously to load it.
"I can smoke while I am changing," he said, "and you can sit there and
tell me all about Colin Camber."
I did as he requested, and Harley, who could change quicker than any
man I had ever known, had just finished tying his bow as I completed my
story of the encounter at the Lavender Arms.
"Hm," he muttered, as I ceased speaking. "At every turn I realize that
without you I should have been lost, Knox.
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