13: A Survey
LOW-HANGING clouds were chasing swiftly across the sky when Gees looked out from his window the next morning: there had been a little rain in the night, as the state of the drive in front of the house showed, but now it had ceased, though still, from the direction in which the clouds were driving, the wind was in the south-west—the rainy quarter. As he shaved Gees queried whether the police inspector would consent to a night's watching in the rain: to his practical, unimaginative mind, the vigil they had already kept and its lack of any result was evidence of the slenderness of their chance of saving him from resigning, and with him, as with Tyrrell, Gees was and knew himself at a disadvantage in that he could not tell of what he believed. If he did anything of the sort, Tyrr
