The policeman was glad of the respite. He needed time to collect his
thoughts. The story of the dinner-party and its excitement disposed
completely of Elkin's malicious theory with regard to Grant, but, since
the horse-dealer was minded to be communicative, it would be well to
encourage him.

"Come in, and have a drink," said Elkin, when the colt had been stabled.

"No, thanks--not when I'm on duty."

Elkin raised his eyebrows sarcastically. He could not possibly guess that
Robinson was adopting Furneaux's pose of never accepting hospitality
from a man whom he might have to arrest.

"Well, blaze away. I'm ready."

The younger man leaned against a gate. He looked ill and physically worn.

"Your business has kept you out late of a night recently, you say, Mr.
Elkin," began the other, speaking as casually as he could contrive. "Now,
it might help a lot if you can call to mind anyone you met on the roads
at ten or eleven o'clock. For instance, last night--"

Elkin laughed in a queer, croaking way.

"Last night my mare brought me home. I was decidedly sprung, Robinson.
Glad you didn't spot me, or there might have been trouble. What between
the inquest, an' no food, an' more than a few drinks at Knoleworth, I'd
have passed Owd Ben himself without seeing him, though I believe I did