“He has been through my hands, and I don’t think I shall have any difficulty in placing him, although for the moment his name escapes me.”
A search of the records, however, revealed the identity of the missing man, and by the evening an enlargement of the photograph, and his name, aliases and general characteristics, were locked into the form of every newspaper in the metropolis.
One of the servants had heard the shot, but thought it was the door being slammed—a pardonable mistake, because Mr. Maitland was in the habit of banging doors.
“Maitland was a Frog all right,” reported Elk after he had seen the body removed to the mortuary. “He’s well decorated on the left wrist—yes, slightly askew. That is one of the points that you’ve never cleared up to me, Captain Gordon. Why they should be tattooed on the left wrist I can understand, but why the frog shouldn’t be stamped square I’ve never understood.”
“That is one of the little mysteries that can’t be cleared up until we are through with the big ones,” said Dick.
A telegram had been received that afternoon by the missing footman. This fact was not remembered until after Elk had returned to headquarters. A ’phone message through to the district post-office brought a copy of the message. It was very simple.
“Finish and clear,” were the three words. The message was unsigned. It had been handed in at the Temple Post Office at two o’clock, and the murderer had lost no time in carrying out his instructions.
Maitland’s office was in the hands of the police, and a systematic search had already begun of its documents and books. At seven o’clock that night Elk went to Fitzroy Square, and Johnson opened the door to him. Looking past him, Elk saw that the passage was filled with furniture and packing cases, and remembered that early in the morning Johnson had mentioned that he was moving, and had taken two cheaper rooms in South London.
“You’ve packed?”
Johnson nodded.