8
IT WAS LATE in the evening when Richardson found himself mounting the stairs to Inspector Aitkin’s room at the police station. Detective inspectors, whether competent or otherwise, can lay no claim to regular hours of duty, and so, as Richardson expected, he found Aitkin in his room.
“You’ve been busy this evening, sir. Did you get any result from those letters?”
“I did, and it’s that that has brought me here so late. There were letters in that suitcase that pointed strongly to a man named Casey having been on compromising terms with Mrs Pomeroy. Do you know the man? He lodges with a Mrs Coxon and is a journalist.”
“Oh yes, everybody on the estate knows Casey. He’s the sort of Irishman who takes a delight in rubbing people up the wrong way. He comes over here to make his living and n
