3
TWO DAYS after their adventure on the Ealing estate Jim Milsom rang up his friend Herbert Mitchell.
“Is that you, Herbert? Milsom speaking. You’re coming down to the inquest, of course?”
“No, they haven’t subpoenaed me.”
“What does that matter? They’ve left me out too, but we have a duty to perform. We’ve got to see that Pomeroy has a fair ‘do.’ I’ll come round with the car and drive you down. It’s a public enquiry, and we’ll jolly well see that justice is done.”
On the way down they discussed the case. “You’ll see,” said Milsom, “that the police have got together every scrap of evidence that bears against Pomeroy and haven’t worried themselves about any other possible malefactor.”
“Well, that’s quite natural, isn’t it? Who else could it be but Pomeroy? Oh, I know what you’ll say—
