"Still, we could make a few discreet inquiries, and meanwhile I'm going to totter up to Crofton with the jolly old 'bus."
"Crofton?"
"Where Miss Clara Whittaker and Miss Dawson used to live. I'm going to look for the man with the little black bag - the strange, suspicious solicitor, you remember, who came to see Miss Dawson two years ago, and was so anxious that she should make a will. I fancy he knows all there is to know about the Rev. Hallelujah and his claim. Will you come, too?"
"Can't - not without special permission. I'm not officially on this case, you know."
"You're on the Gotobed business. Tell the Chief you think they're connected. I shall need your restraining presence. No less ignoble pressure than that of the regular police force will induce a smoke-dried family lawyer to spill the beans."
(from Unnatural Death, by Dorothy l. Sayers)
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