Freemann Wills Crofts - The Cask

“I think it’s conclusive. Absolutely conclusive. And that explains the queer-shaped ladder.”

“Eh, what? What’s that you say?”

“It must have been the gangway business for loading barrels on the dray. I saw one hooked on below the deck.”

Burnley smote his thigh a mighty slap.

“One for you, Mr. Felix,” he cried, “one for you, sir. I never thought of it. That points to Watty again.”

“Inspector, let me congratulate you. You have got evidence that makes the thing a practical certainty.”

“I think it’s a true bill. And now, sir, I must be getting back to the Yard.” Burnley hesitated and then went on: “I am extremely sorry and I’m afraid you won’t like it, but I shall be straight with you and tell you I cannot—I simply dare not—leave you without some kind of police supervision until this cask business is cleared up. But I give you my word you shall not be annoyed.”

Felix smiled.

“That’s all right. You do your duty. The only thing I ask you is to let me know how you get on.”

“I hope we’ll have some news for you later in the day.”

It was now shortly after eight, and the car had arrived with the two men sent back the previous evening. Burnley gave them instructions about keeping a watch on Felix, then with Sergeant Hastings and Constable Walker he entered the car and was driven rapidly towards London.

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