" 'My name is Stuart Travers. I am a theatrical impresorrio, retired. I lived at the Deword, Broadway and Eighty-Sixth Street, New York City. I am travelling in England for pleasure. I do not know Mr. Depping. Yes, I know what happened last night; everybody here knows all about it. Yes; I know I am under suspicion. I was not near the Guest House at any time last night. If the man who called there was seen, they will tell you it was not me. I have nothing to be afraid of. I went to my room last night at half-past nine, and did not leave it until this morning. That is all I have to say until I have consulted my lawyer."
During the reading, Inspector Murch had been leaning farther and farther backwards. Now he looked up with a heavy and crafty smile.
"I had not any warrant," he pursued, "and could not hold the accused until properly identified. I asked him to accompany me 'ere to be identified, and he would not, sir, he said, until he had telephoned to London and talked to his lawyer. Very cool. Afterwards, the accused said he would come gladly, and meantime he would stop in charge of Sergeant Ravens. So he won't run away, sir, look— but, in secret, I obtained pieces of evidence which is most significant."
"Dashed good work, that" said Colonel Standish approvingly. "Hear that? Listen again. Hang him without a doubt. Eh, Murch?"
"Thank you, sir. We can hope so," replied Murch, with heavy modesty. "Well, sir, to go on. Mr. Travers was not in his room last night at the time indicated as per statement. It is true he be and went there at half-past nine. But he left it, because he was seen at close on ten o'clock, climbing back into the window of 'is room — which is on the ground floor. Funny thing; he was sopping wet, though the rain hadn't started, as wet as though he'd been and fallen in the river…"
"In the river," interrupted Dr. Fell, musingly. "Not bad, not bad. How do you explain that?"
"Well, sir, I don't. But that's not the important thing, you see. Mrs. Kenviss, the landlord's wife at the Chequers, saw him doing it when she was coming back from taking the cloths off all the little tables in a sort of restaurant arbor they have outside. She wondered what was up, and watched… In less than five minutes, out this Mr. Travers climbed again, with 'is clothes changed, and hurried off somewhere. That's the important thing. A good walker could easy cover four miles between the Chequers and this house here in less than an hour. He'd have reached here by eleven o'clock… "
"So he would," agreed Dr. Fell. "In time for a blackmailer to have seen a great deal"
The inspector frowned. "Seen, sir?" he repeated, with a sort of hoarse jocosity. " M! Tisn't what he'd've seen, not much. That's the time he walked straight in that door there, after the lights went out, and upstairs — as we know. And shot poor Mr. Depping. He didn't get back to the Chequers until half-past one. Mrs. Kenviss," the inspector said virtuously, "said it was her bounden duty to sit up, and watch that window, and see what was what. Blessmes’l, she and Mr. Kenviss do get a scare when they learn this morning what's happened!'And they didn't dare speak to Mr. Travers; so she hurries out after Sergeant Ravens, and that's how I know. But," announced Murch, tapping his notebook with heavy emphasis, "we don't give our knowledge away, Ravens and me. To Mr. Travers, I mean. I thought I'd best nip back here straightaway, get that Storer chap, take him and identify Mr. Travers, and we've got him."
He closed his notebook. "My superior officer, the chief constable," he continued, with an air of putting on the final touch, "has made the information against him as being one Louis Spinelli, and that completes it. I have now my warrants for arrest and search."