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In five minutes he was speaking to his own chief at Scotland Yard,
and the familiar cockney voice of Inspector Harrison came over the
two hundred odd miles that separated the metropolis of convicts from
the metropolis of the world.
"Man apparently murdered here, inspector. Chap who is thought to
have done it disappeared. Widow wants me to take up case. I'm
unwilling to do so; but it looks like duty." So spoke Brendon.
"Right. If it looks like duty, do it. Let me hear again to-night.
Halfyard, chief at Princetown, is an old friend of mine. Very good
man. Good-bye."
Mark then learned that Inspector Halfyard was already at Foggintor.
"I'm on this," said Mark to the constable. "I'll come in again. Tell
the inspector to expect me at noon for all details. I'm going to see
Mrs. Pendean now."
The policeman saluted. He knew Brendon very well by sight.
"I hope it won't knock a hole in your holiday, sir. But I reckon it
won't. It's all pretty plain sailing by the look of it."
"Where's the body?"
"That's what we don't know yet, Mr.


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