“Your system of investigation is evidently more thorough than ours.”
“It is complementary to yours,” said George quietly. “Go on, Leon.”
“Now what happened to our friend the burglar? He evidently saw somebody in Orme Place whom he either recognized or trailed to his home. For the next day or two he was in and out of public telephone booths, though no number has been traced. He goes to Hyde Park, obviously by appointment—and the snake-bites!
“There was another danger to the confederacy. The bank clerk, learning of the death of the client, is troubled. I have proof that he called Oberzohn on the ’phone. If you remember, when the broker’s affairs were gone into, it was found that he was almost insolvent. A large sum of money had been drawn out of the bank and paid to ‘X.’ The certainty that he knew who ‘X.’ was, worried this decent bank clerk, and he called Oberzohn, probably to ask him why he had not made a statement. On the day he telephoned the snake man, that day he died.”
The detective was listening in silent wonder.
“It sounds like a page out of a sensational novel,” he said, “yet it hangs together.”
“It hangs together because it is true.” Poiccart’s deep voice broke into the conversation. “This has been Oberzohn’s method all his life. He is strong for logic, and there is no more logical action in the world than the destruction of those who threaten your safety and life.”
Meadows pushed away his plate, his breakfast half eaten.
“Proof,” he said briefly.
“What proof can you have, my dear fellow?” scoffed Leon.