“But that isn't all that you have to tell.”
“You mean the pages torn out of the receipt-book. You know about them.”
“No, I don't mean them. I know all about that, as you say. I mean something else.”
“Do you want my confession as to how I killed Eames?” asked the manager sardonically.
“I want to know first who the man was you showed over the balcony rooms, including No. 14, at midday on Saturday, August third?”
“That was Sikes. He lends money strictly on the q.t. and at only seven hundred per cent. But the mere idea that his little hobby might get about infuriated him so that after you sent that blundering chap of yours down to investigate he broke the whole thing off. He's aiming to get into Parliament: that's why he's Sykes with a ‘y’ now.”
“Humph! And had you never seen Erskine before?”
“Never.”
“Nor Mr. Beale?”
“No. I assure you, Inspector, that I had never seen either man before.”