The Inspector nodded, replying:
“We do. But of course we have an extensive system which covers the whole of England. Even at that it would be rather difficult to find any apparent motive for this murder. There is none on the surface.”
“None that we usually find. Warren had no relative except his brother in the south. He is a very wealthy man, and the property will go to him. No family troubles. It seems from all we have heard he was not killed for money. There was nothing of any value taken. On the other hand, he had no enemies so far as I ever heard; in fact, the more you look at it the greater becomes the mystery. Just why a man like Warren should have been killed is the question we must answer first. Until that is answered there can be no chance of answering the second—who killed him.”
The Englishman was thoughtful for a while, and then sinking back in his chair said slowly:
“That is true. The only thing we do not know about is what might have taken place in China.”
“I know about that,” commented Bartley, and as we both looked at him in surprise, he added:
“I ran into Niles Patton at the University Club yesterday. I have known Patton for a long time. He was with Warren in China. He says that they had no trouble at all on their expedition. The only reason they were delayed in returning was not because they were molested by outlaws, but on account of the great discoveries of fossils Warren made. He says that so far as he knows Warren did not have an enemy in the whole of China. You will meet him when he comes up here to finish Warren's notes, and he will tell you the same thing.”
“But, John,” I ventured. “How about that Chinaman who visited us and the story he told?”
Bartley threw out his hands in a gesture of hopelessness and said that he could not answer the question. For a while we commented about his visit, and agreed with Bartley the man had lied to us when he spoke about a box which contained the ashes of Buddha. It was Ranville's opinion that the Chinaman had come more to discover what we knew than any other reason. He was rather insistent that the man should have been held by the police. And then I remembered that I had not told Bartley of my visit to the swamp and of the attack which had been made on me at the church tower.
He listened soberly, smiled once or twice as something struck him as being humorous, and opened his eyes when I narrated how I was thrown over the tower. He laughed when I told him of the amazed look upon the minister's face as he heard my voice and opened the trap door. But he did not make any comment, saying that it was rather an odd thing to have taken place.