Bell snorted and lifted the basket on to the table. It was nearly full of black burnt paper. “Why did they burn it in the basket?” said the inspector.
“Because the fireplaces are all gas stoves, I suppose,” said Bell. “But I don’t know why they couldn’t leave the stuff on the hearth.”
“Because this is a tidy crime,” said Reggie. “Nice, quiet, middle-class crime. No ugly mess. I told you that.”
The Superintendent gazed at him. “Now what can you know, you know?”
“I don’t know. I feel. I feel the kind of man that did it. Don’t you? I’ll lay you odds he came of a neat, virtuous, middle-class home.”
The Superintendent started. “Who are you thinking of?”
“You are so hasty to-day, Bell. I haven’t got a ‘who’. Still anonymous is the slayer. But I’ll swear I’ve got his character.”
“Have you, though!” said Bell. “Tidy fellow! Don’t make a mess! Remember that face?”
“Oh, I said he was mad.”
“Well, I’m not yet. I’m only feeling what I can feel.” He began to examine the burnt paper. “Letters mostly. Some stoutish paper. Some stuff looks a bit like a notebook. That’s all we’ll get out of that.”