“Criminal, Mr. Bathurst?” broke in Charles Stewart. “What makes you so optimistic?”
“No! I was about to say ‘on the weapon,’ Mr. Stewart. But the other will naturally follow.”
“I’m rather curious to follow you, Mr. Bathurst,” said Goodall. He walked to the desk and picked up the ink-bowl. “Ah!” he muttered, after a moment—“I think I see your drift.” He nodded his head two or three times—then came back to Charles Stewart again. “I’m going into the garden for a few moments—when I return I should like to see Miss Lennox and Mr. Llewellyn, your father’s secretary. Perhaps you would be good enough to tell them.” He passed through the French doors—the indefatigable Clegg at his heels. Anthony and Peter watched them go through the rockery and disappear out of sight. “Where’s he gone now?” questioned Peter.
“He’s bound to have a look outside,” was Anthony’s reply. “He may pick up the O’Connor information—he should do—he’s a pretty shrewd fellow.”
Out of sight of the library, Clegg touched the Inspector on the coat-sleeve. “What I wanted to tell you was this. I wanted you to come into it fresh—with no suspicions so to speak—so I didn’t tell you everything till you’d had a bit of a look round.” He gazed round warily to make sure that they were not overlooked or overheard. Then he thrust his hand into the breast-pocket of his tunic and handed Goodall a dainty lace handkerchief. “I found that caught in the curtains hanging by those French doors yesterday morning,” he explained breathlessly. “Do you see the initials? That belongs to the dead man’s ward—Miss Lennox.”
Goodall handled it with great interest. “Now that’s very curious, Clegg,” he observed. “Miss Lennox—eh? And I understand that Butterworth, the butler, accuses her of having been with the dead man at ten minutes past ten on the night of the murder—h’m. She, in her turn, puts the rough edge of her tongue round Mr. Morgan Llewellyn—h’m! Clegg—where the hell are we getting to?”
Clegg coughed discreetly. “There was the other point I mentioned, Inspector, on top of all that,” he pointed out steadfastly. Goodall considered for a second. Then he remembered what Clegg meant.
“She attempted to get into the library you mean, don’t you, when you left your man on duty there?”
“Not a doubt about it,” replied the Sergeant.
“Before I see her or this secretary fellow—I’m going to have a few words with some of the servants——come along with me—we may perhaps pick something up that may be valuable.”