The detective paused in his narrative to pick up the watch. "The clothes are new and give no clue except that they evidently belonged to a gentleman. This watch is more helpful. Do you recognize it, Mr. Trenton?"
Mr. Trenton, still somewhat dazed by the rapid sequence of the other's story, received the watch with tender reverence, looked at it, nodded, and passed it to me. How well I remembered that gold time-piece of biscuit thinness, with its plain R. T. engraved upon the back, which Mr. Trenton had given Dick on his twenty-first birthday! And in further proof, if such were needed, the inside of the case held a round kodak picture of Ruth and Dick, taken on the same day!
No, there could be no mistake as to the identity of Mrs. Blake's lodger!
"The watch is really superfluous evidence," continued Jones. "In that notebook we found your name, Mr. Trenton, written along with his on the sheet reserved for identification."
He opened the book and showed us the page which had a place for name, address, parentage, age, height, etc. Dick had filled in only his own name and his father's.
"You identify the handwriting?" asked Jones.
"Yes, it's my son's," returned Mr. Trenton in that same monotonous tone in which he had first spoken of Dick's death.
"Knowing that these articles belonged to Mr. Richard Trenton, and knowing also that he was Mrs. Darwin's brother, we had these things brought to Headquarters for investigation, because we thought there might be some connection between this suicide and the murder of Philip Darwin."
"I don't believe that Dick had anything to do with the murder," I said slowly. "Surely you are not of the opinion that he killed Darwin?"
"Well, hardly, since he wasn't in the study when the crime was committed. What I meant was that he might have been the instigator; and she, the tool, as it were."