“I also,” he said pointedly, “have seen the envelopes addressed in that name, which were found in his pocket.”
Angel’s face was preternaturally solemn as he continued—
“The third man I am not so sure about.”
The inspector looked up suspiciously.
“Third man—which third man?”
Well-simulated astonishment sent Angel’s eyebrows to the shape of inverted V’s.
“There was another man in it. Didn’t you know that, Mr. Inspector?”
“I have found no evidence of the presence of a third party,” he said stiffly; “but I have not yet concluded my investigations.”
“Good!” said Angel cheerfully. “When you have, you will find the ends of three cigarettes—two in the room where the old man was killed, and one in the safe room. They are marked ‘Al Kam,’ and are a fairly expensive variety of Egyptian cigarettes. Massey smoked cigars; old Reale did not smoke at all. The question is”—he went on speaking aloud to himself, and ignoring the perplexed police official—“was it Connor or was it Jimmy?”
The inspector struggled with a desire to satisfy his curiosity at the expense of his dignity, and resolved to maintain an attitude of superior incredulity. He turned back to his work.