“No, I don't!” said the inspector bluntly. “Thompson was a wrong 'un, but at present I do not see any connexion with the murder at all! They are at it now, full swing!” For as they neared Notting Hill Gate they could hear the voices of the newsboys calling out their papers—“Murder of a well-known Solicitor. Missing Clerk!” Up by the station the newsboys exhibited lurid headlines.
They bought a handful of papers and unfolded them as they bowled swiftly across to the library. In most cases the murder of the solicitor occupied the greater part of the front page. The disappearance of the managing clerk was made the most of. But in several there were hints of the mysterious visitor, veiled surmises as to her business and identity. Altogether the Crow's Inn Tragedy, as the papers were beginning to call it, seemed to contain all the materials for a modern sensational drama.
At the library they both got out. The section devoted to T's was at the farther end. A pleasant-looking girl was handing out books. Seizing his opportunity the inspector went forward and held out the volume.
“I have found this book under rather peculiar circumstances. Can you tell me by whom it was borrowed?”
For a moment the girl seemed undecided; then, murmuring a few unintelligible words, she went round to the manager's desk. That functionary came back with her.
“I hear you want to know who borrowed this book, but it is not our custom to give particulars——”
“I know it is not.” The inspector held out his card. “But I think you will have to make an exception in my case.”
The manager put up his pince-nez and glanced at the card, and then at the inspector. Then he signed to an assistant to bring him the book in which subscribers' names were entered, and spoke to her in a low tone. She looked frightened as she glanced at the inspector.
“It was borrowed by a Mr. Thompson, sir, address 10 Brooklyn Terrace, North Kensington. He is an old subscriber.”
“Did he come for the books himself?” the inspector questioned. “Can you describe him?”