“Good old Cain? So he did. And his name begins with a C, just like mine, too! Any other points of resemblance you’d like to suggest?”
“Not just now,” Sir Clinton responded. “Information would be more to the purpose at present. Let’s go along to the museum, please. There are one or two points which need to be cleared up as soon as possible.”
Cecil made no open demur; but his manner continued to be obviously hostile as they made their way along the passages. At the museum door the constable on guard stood aside in order to let them pass in.
“Wait a moment,” Sir Clinton ordered, as his companions were about to enter the room. “I want to try an experiment before we go any further.”
He turned to Cecil.
“Will you go across and stand in front of the case in which the Muramasa sword used to be kept? You’ll find the sheath still in the case. And you, Inspector, go to the spot where we found Foss’s body.”
When they had obeyed him he swung the door round on its hinges until it was almost closed, and then looked through the remaining opening.
“Say a few words in an ordinary tone, Inspector. A string of addresses or something of that sort.”
“William Jones, Park Place, Amersley Royal,” began the Inspector, obediently; “Henry Blenkinsop, 18 Skeening Road, Hinchley; John Orran Gordon, 88 Bolsover Lane . . .”
“That will be enough, thanks. I can hear you quite well. Now lower your voice a trifle and say ‘Muramasa,’ ‘Japanese,’ and ‘sword,’ please. And mix them into the middle of some more addresses.”