"It does look as if the murderer or murderers were on friendly terms with Ingleston," he said presently. "Apart from the glasses, none of the windows seem to have been tampered with, and the front door hasn't been touched."
"How was the murder discovered?"
"When the maid came in this morning. She has her own key."
"You've checked up on Ingleston's friends?"
"We haven't had time to do much in that line yet. But the maid says that a friend of his waited over an hour for him here last night, until she sent him away because she wanted to go home. She says that this fellow seemed to be in a rage about something, and when he went off he said he'd have something to say to Ingleston later, so he may have waited in the street until Ingleston came home and followed him upstairs."
The Saint nodded interestedly.
"Did she know who he was?"
"Oh yes, we know who he was," said Mr Teal confidently. "It won't take long to find him."
His drowsy eyes were fastened unwinkingly on the Saint's face, watching for the slightest betrayal of emotion; but Simon only nodded again with benevolent approval.
"Then there really doesn't seem to be anything for me to do," he drawled. "With that Sherlock Holmes brain of yours and the great organization behind you, I shall expect to read about the arrest in tomorrow morning's paper. And a good job too. These ruffians must be taught that crime will not be allowed to go unpunished so long as there is one honest bowler hat in Scotland Yard. Farewell, old faithful."