Fane and Derrick parted at the top of Achilles Avenue, the latter heartily thanking the former for the very handsome cheque. "And if that husband returns, sir," said Derrick, shaking hands, "you may be sure that I'll let you know straight off. By the way"--he drew near confidentially--"do you know that the motor-car in which the assassin is supposed to have escaped is in Madame Tussaud's?"
"No"--Fane laughed--"what possible interest can it have?"
"Well, sir, you see the mystery of the case makes it interesting. A lot of people will go there and look at it, and talk about the case."
"I hope they may stumble upon some evidence likely to give a clue to the assassin."
"Bless you, no one will do that, sir. The case has baffled me, so I do not think there's much chance of any one else getting at the truth. I think that American gentleman's a smart man of business, though. He sold the car to Tussaud's at a long price."
"H'm!" said Fane, pondering, "do you think he had anything to do with the crime?"
"No, sir. He missed his motor-car sure enough. Had he killed the woman, he would have escaped in it and proved an alibi."
"I think it was better what he did do. He met Mulligan and you, and with you surveyed the corpse. That daring would avert any suspicion."
"Have you an idea yourself, sir, that he might----"
"No, no!" interrupted Fane hurriedly; "it's simply an idea. But I have learned from Mr. Calvert that Tracey--that's his name, isn't it?--has taken the Hampstead house."