Hil repeated. “And I did not sneak out to wherever Enderby was holed up and kill him. Satisfied?”He sat in a small room with Inspector Vickery at Bow Street. The room was stark in its simplicity. A table and several chairs, a boarded window, and a small fireplace were the only items in the room, he and Vickery the only occupants. It smelled of sweat, beeswax, leather, and desperation. Vickery was a big man, filling more than his fair share of the tiny room, but he was not a bully. He was a good inspector who did his job without calling attention to himself.“Yes, actually,” Vickery said, laying down his pen. “Got the same story from your servants. And no sight of you around Enderby’s rented rooms.”Hil leaned forward. “Where was he staying?”“The Bull and Mouth, on Ludgate Hill.” Vickery sat and let him digest that information, watching him carefully. “Why do you suppose he chose a coaching inn and not a hotel?” he asked at last. “Had the blunt for a hotel.”“I don’t know,”
