Chapter 24

Long pause, during which the inspector listens, quite a variety of expressions passing over his usually impassive countenance. Finally he lays down the receiver, after a brief “At once, my lord.” He turned to Johnson, seeming visibly swelled with importance. “From his lordship—at Chimneys—Murder.” “Murder,” echoed Johnson, suitably impressed. “Murder it is,” said the inspector, with great satisfaction. “Why, there’s never been a murder here—not that I’ve ever heard of—except the time that Tom Pearse shot his sweeth…