"Sure they were quarreling, Betty?"
"Oh, yes, sir. They were both angry and excited."
"That was the night of the fire? The night of the robbery?"
"Yes, sir."
"You were on your way to bed—do you know what time it was?"
"Just past ten, sir,—or maybe half-past."
"That's near enough."
After a few more questions he let her go, telling her to ask Janet Mackay to join him in the study at her first opportunity. While he waited for the "tall, gaunt nondescript" to appear he contemplated the case of William Graham, and sitting in Varr's chair he came slowly to the same dark suspicions that Varr had entertained.
"Graham saw the notebook here, and knew what it was. He could use what was in it—none better. According to the watchman, Nelson, Graham sympathized with the strikers even if he ranked with the bosses. He was a bit the worse for liquor when he was here that evening, in the mood to think of some wild act and perhaps drunk enough to carry out the thought. He had time to slip down and set that fire, then come back when it was under way and sneak into the house. Granting that he used the dagger because it was handy, why did he carry it away with him? Was he thinking of murder already? Was he cool enough to figure that a weapon taken from Varr's own house would not readily be traced to him? Can't answer these questions—now!" Creighton lighted a cigarette and wrinkled his brow. "Graham has plenty of intelligence, from all accounts. He is clever enough to have thought of an effective disguise, and he probably knew the legend of the monk, since his daughter showed it to Miss Copley in a book belonging to them. Um. Is he the man I'm looking for?"
He did not have time for further reflection before the entrance of Miss Janet Mackay, once of Aberdeen, now a citizen of the world and the devoted henchwoman of Miss October Copley. She inclined her head stiffly in reply to his pleasant greeting, refused a chair, and remained standing in front of him, hands folded across her flat stomach, her cold eyes fixed on him through her cheap, steel spectacles. She was taller and gaunter and more angular than ever. Creighton chuckled inwardly. If Miss Copley was October, then this was January, or at best late December!