“Of course. I am going to a friend in Glasgow who says he can find me a job. I shall be staying with Mrs. MacIntosh, of 47 Kilgore Street, Dumbarton Road.”
French noted the address.
“Thanks. I do not think I shall want you, but I should be remiss in my duty if I failed to keep in touch with you. The other question is about a friend of Miss Averill’s, a man named Giles, who died about the time of the fire. I wish you would tell me what he died of.”
Dr. Philpot looked at him in surprise. Then something approaching a twinkle appeared in his eye.
“Hullo! Another—er—unexpected development? Is it indiscreet to inquire?”
“It is,” French answered, “but I’ll tell you because I really want my information. It may be a very serious matter, Dr. Philpot, and I am mentioning it in strict confidence
