“Very well,” agreed the other, quietly.
Thereupon the big man proceeded to relate all that had befallen him since seeing the crime specialist upon the river bank in the guise of a jaundiced man. Ashton-Kirk listened with interest and with narrowed eyes, and when the other had finished, he rose to his feet.
“One of the most curious things in all this business of investigation,” said he, “is the way things have of falling together. At times this is not only bizarre, but also astounding.”
“Miss Knowles seems to be a fairly industrious lady, doesn’t she?” said Bat. “Early and late she’s on the job. I couldn’t get anything out of the business with the harp, though I’m sure she has a pretty well fixed purpose; but the little game of the sword was plain enough.”
The detective made no reply, but took a cigarette from a box upon the table, lighted it and began pacing the floor.
“It’s not easy to believe that a woman with a face like Miss Knowles could put together a little job like that, though,” said Scanlon, also lighting a cigarette. “If I hadn’t seen the thing working itself out, I wouldn’t have believed it. And it took some nerve, after she failed once, to get him out there among the hills so that she could take another swipe at him.”
Ashton-Kirk nodded and went on with his smoking and his pacing.
“But,” said Bat, inquiringly, “why the sword? If she is leagued with these people to do away with Campe, why isn’t it enough to do it in the readiest way? Why must it be done with the big blade from the tapestry room?”
But the other’s mind seemed to be moving in another channel.
“This parcel,” said he, “which you saw delivered, and which Miss Knowles at once took charge of—you are quite sure it contained only blank paper?”