inspector. “We know some one was with him at half-past nine. If that visitor

turned up as soon as you left, and after he went, Miss Ackroyd came in to say

good-night—well, he wouldn’t be able to go on with the letter until close upon

ten o’clock.”

 

“And the telephone call?”

 

“Parker sent that all right—perhaps before he thought of the locked door and

open window. Then he changed his mind—or got in a panic—and decided to deny all

knowledge of it. That was it, depend upon it.”

 

“Ye-es,” I said rather doubtfully.

 

“Anyway, we can find out the truth about the telephone call from the exchange.

If it was put through from here, I don’t see how any one else but Parker could

have sent it. Depend upon it, he’s our man.

 

But keep it dark—we don’t want to alarm him just yet, till we’ve got all the

evidence. I’ll see to it he doesn’t give us the slip. To all appearances we’ll

be concentrating on your mysterious stranger.”

 

He rose from where he had been sitting astride the chair belonging to the desk,

and crossed over to the still form in the arm-chair.

 

“The weapon ought to give us a clew,” he remarked, looking up. “It’s something