Except for the evidence which could be brought by Solomon, Sara Helmuth, and the doctor of the Juba, all of whom would not be suspected by Krausz, the identity of Harcourt's murderer was unknown.
Counting on this fact, Krausz must have worked out the case against Hammer to the last detail—even to that scar on his forehead.
There was no ultimate danger, of course, but that was not the fault of Krausz; he must have reasoned that if Harcourt had disclosed the name of his attacker before he died, it would have set the commissioner after Jenson.
Therefore he had not disclosed it, and therefore it was perfectly safe to make out the case against the American—and with a plausibility which was startling to Hammer himself, certain as he was of disproving the charge absolutely, on the return of Solomon.
Yet, was Krausz so wholly to blame after all? Could he have known those little things, such as the scar, and Hammer's ownership of the yacht? He had been miles away all this time, and while he must have furnished Jenson with letters to the German Consul, in order to get the askaris, the little secretary must have acted on his own initiative in regard to this charge.
Krausz was no saint, but he was a sinner only because of his life-work, his science; he was no plotter in the dark, and the very theft which had brought him here, which had made him bring Sara Helmuth with him as a sop to a guilty conscience, was attributable to the secretary, who was his evil genius. And that Jenson could act on his own initiative had been shown after Schlak's murder.
Yes, concluded Hammer grimly, he had a godly score to settle with Jenson. Solomon could handle Krausz, for he had long since constituted himself the companion of Miss Helmuth, but Jenson was his own peculiar affair. And, askaris or no, he was going to the ruins and get Jenson——
At this juncture the door opened. Behind the policeman entered two of the German sailors from the Daphne, and behind him Adolf Jenson.
Hammer said nothing. Thoroughly master of himself by now, he knew the futility of threats, nor did he want to show Jenson his hand unless it was necessary. But he soon found that it was highly necessary for his own safety.
"You are Adolf Jenson?" demanded the commissioner brusquely.