“Weel, I reckoned I might as well mention the idea—which is an idea that has occurred to more than me. But then I didn't want to put up the dander of you two gentlemen, and you in particular”—with a polite inclination in the direction of Mr. Steadman—“being a cousin of the late Mr. Bechcombe. But I was at a man's dinner last night, and it was pretty freely canvassed. It is hinted that Mr. Bechcombe might have been in difficulties in his accounts—I understand that there are pretty considerable deficiencies in his balance. And though they are all put down by the police to that clerk that can't be found—well, doesn't it pretty well jump to your eye that the late Mr. Bechcombe himself knew all about them, and that it might have suited his book to have my wife's jewels stolen, perhaps by a confederate—the clerk Thompson or another——”
“And arranged to get himself murdered to get suspicion thrown off himself?” Mr. Steadman inquired satirically as the other paused for breath.
“No, not that exactly, though I guess he was pretty slick,” returned Carnthwacke equably. “But I am inclined to size it up that the two had a quarrel and that the other one killed Mr. Bechcombe.”
“Are you indeed?” questioned John Steadman, a glitter in his eye that would have warned his juniors that the old man was going to be nasty. But the K.C. had rarely lost his temper so completely as to-day. “I can tell you at once that your idea is nothing but a lie—a lie, moreover, that has its foundation in your own foul imagination!” he said very deliberately. “Luke Bechcombe was the soul of honour. I would answer for him as I would for myself.”
“That is vurry satisfactory,” drawled Carnthwacke. “Most satisfactory, I am sure. Weel, since that question is settled I will ask another. Was Mr. Bechcombe's face injured at all?”
The other two looked surprised at this question.
“Why, no,” the inspector answered. “There was not even a scratch upon it. Why do you ask?”
“Another idea!” responded Mr. Carnthwacke cheerfully. “Another idea. But my last wasn't a success. I guess I will keep this to myself for a time.”
“One cannot help seeing that the rubber gloves and the chloroform pretty well dispose of your idea, as they have disposed of a good many others,” the inspector remarked. “No, I believe the murder to have been deliberately planned, but I don't think it was the work of one man alone. There have been more jewel robberies in London in the past year than I ever remember and I am inclined to believe that most of them may be set down to the same gang.”
“The Yellow Gang!” interjected the millionaire. “I have heard of it.”