Lewis and I went back to town the next day.
“You don’t have to come along with me, Braithwaite,” he said, “if you’d rather go another way. I’ve had to keep you with me for fear you’d do something indiscreet. I’m afraid it’s been a strain on you.”
“You’ve puzzled me very much,” I said. I was considerably subdued.
“It was all simple. I told you the way we caught criminals — when we do catch them — is by waiting for them to add something, or take something away, from the picture. You added something when you dragged out the picture of Scoville shooting. You should have left me to find it out for myself. I would have done it, sooner or later. His golf clubs, for instance, were there in his closet. I would have got around to them some time. And if you were fond of Mrs. Scoville, you’d hardly
