“Well, I don’t think we need go into the question much further. Somebody—I’ll just say somebody—could get that dagger any time he liked, and exactly when he got it doesn’t matter in the least. I’ll be coming up in the morning with the chief constable, Mr. Raymond. Until then, I’ll keep the key of that door. I want Colonel Melrose to see everything exactly as it is. I happen to know that he’s dining out the other side of the county, and, I believe, staying the night....”
We watched the inspector take up the jar.
“I shall have to pack this carefully,” he observed. “It’s going to be an important piece of evidence in more ways than one.”
A few minutes later as I came out of the billiard room with Raymond, the latter gave a low chuckle of amusement.
I felt the pressure of his hand on my arm, and followed the direction of his eyes. Inspector Davis seemed to be inviting Parker’s opinion of a small pocket diary.
“A little obvious,” murmured my companion. “So Parker is the suspect, is he? Shall we oblige Inspector Davis with a set of our fingerprints also?”
He took two cards from the card tray, wiped them with his silk handkerchief, then handed one to me and took the other himself. Then, with a grin, he handed them to the police inspector.
“Souvenirs,” he said. “No. 1, Dr. Sheppard; No. 2, my humble self. One from Major Blunt will be forthcoming in the morning.”
Youth is very buoyant. Even the brutal murder of his friend and employer could not dim Geoffrey Raymond’s spirits for long. Perhaps that is as it should be. I do not know. I have lost the quality of resilience long since myself.
It was very late when I got back, and I hoped that Caroline would have gone to bed. I might have known better.