He had his suspicions as to the person who had ransacked Wing’s desk, and it was a satisfaction to be given an opportunity to test that suspicion by this later act. If he could bring it home to the possible culprit in the former case, he felt that a very considerable advance would be made. It was true that the method smacked a trifle of seeking facts with which to sustain a preconceived opinion, rather than permitting facts to lead up to judgment; but strict adherence to rule was not always possible, and this appeared a case in which exception was to be made.
Because, however, of this yielding to temptation, possibly, it troubled him more to discover that the assumed trespasser on Wing’s desk could by no means be the culprit in the present case, for it was beyond controversy that the suspected individual had not been within many miles of the Millbank hostelry at the hour of the intrusion. It might be a touch of cunning, but the alibi was not to be questioned. None the less, here was the fact that Wing’s desk was broken open because he was believed to be in possession of certain papers of a compromising character, and that when it was believed that these papers had come into the possession of the detective, his room and papers were in turn ransacked. That there was connection of cause and effect between the facts was scarcely to be doubted, even though it was not as simple as he had at first supposed to establish it.
Uncertainty as to the nature of the missing papers, and his inability to secure any definite information, were the tantalising features of the case. He questioned McManus only to find that his knowledge of the matter was no less hazy. These papers had been seen by no one in the office excepting in package. Whether they had been received by Wing from Judge Parlin or not was unknown. There was a general understanding that they had come from the judge, and that Wing had given a great deal of attention to them, so that they had grown materially in his hands. The scandal of the ransacking of the desk had caused a great deal of excitement in the office and no little discussion, but this had brought out no facts bearing on the subject-matter. That it involved some one was guessed, but even this guess was wild and general, rather than specific.
“Unless something of certainty is arrived at,” Trafford said, “it will be impossible to delay the re-opening of the inquest more than a week longer, and in the present temper of the public mind a verdict implicating Oldbeg would not be impossible.”
He said it half musingly, as if rather talking to himself than otherwise, and yet there was a look under the eyelids that would not have been quite reassuring to a close observer. McManus did not seem to note it, but took up the matter rather with Trafford’s own manner.
“But there the papers stand as the insurmountable difficulty. Oldbeg could have no object in stealing them. He could scarcely have known of their existence—that is, as papers of value. If the connection could be made, it would be serious for him.”
“But it can’t be made,” Trafford said, as if he were waking from his lethargic condition. “I’ve told you what kind of a man it was that did this murder, and when the murderer is discovered, as discovered he will be, you’ll find I’ve described him correctly. Those papers caused this murder and caused it because they were a menace to some one. That some one couldn’t have been Oldbeg——”
“Yet the public mind is impressed with Oldbeg’s guilt and, if I mistake not, the jury is as well.”
“You overlook the fact that nothing regarding these papers has appeared in the testimony.”
McManus looked up suddenly as the fact was recalled to him.