"You didn't hear any sounds coming from that basement room, or notice anything wrong?"
"No, sir. The blind was drawn down, and I didn't hear anything."
"If the light was on, the murderer may have been there," said the Sergeant. "In fact, it looks to me as though he was there, having done in Carpenter, waiting till you'd passed to make his escape."
The Constable looked distressed. "Yes, sir. I'm sure I'm very sorry."
"Not your fault," said Hannasyde, and dismissed him.
"Nice case, isn't it?" said the Sergeant. "Now we only want to find that the taxi-driver didn't happen to notice what his face looked like, and we'll be sitting pretty."
He was not destined to be disappointed. Some time later, when he and Hannasyde were back at Scotland Yard, a message was received to the effect that one Henry Smith, taxi-driver, while waiting in the rank in Glassmere Road, had been engaged by a gentleman in evening dress, and directed to drive to the Piccadilly Hotel. Whether his fare had actually entered the hotel, he was unable to say. He had not inspected the gentleman closely, but retained an impression of a man of medium height and build. He did not recall the man's face particularly; he was just an ordinary, nice-looking chap.
"Well, at any rate it can't have been Budd," remarked the Sergeant. "No one in their senses would call him nice-looking. We've drawn a blank on the finger-prints, Chief. Whoever did this job wore gloves."
"And no trace of the weapon," Hannasyde said, frowning. "A heavy, blunt instrument, wielded with considerable strength. In fact, exactly the same instrument that was used to kill Fletcher."
"It's nice to think we didn't overlook it at Greystones, at all events," said the Sergeant cheerfully. "The murderer must have walked off with it under his hat. Have you got anything out of Carpenter's papers?"