Pointer shook his head. “I don't think so. Mr. Beale is a somebody all right, or I'm much mistaken.”
“You certainly ought to know the genuine article. You see enough of the imitation. And now I suppose some downtrodden underling of yours is keeping a skinned orb upon both these desperate criminals?” Jim got up and stretched himself.
“They are that!” responded the other fervently.
“Alf!” called O'Connor a little later from his opened bedroom door.
“Well?” came in a muffled voice.
“If it was Beale who searched those drawers why that jumbled haste? Sure he didn't need to fetch the manager till he was ready? Same brainwave applies to the manager and yourself.”
Pointer made no reply.
“Another thought. If Eames committed suicide why fasten himself up in a hotel wardrobe. Why not choose a bench in the park?” persisted the seeker after enlightenment.
The banging of the door between the two rooms was the only reply.