"Now I never thought of that!" threw in Sir Edgar quickly. "Yes, you're right. I will get back and leave it in your hands."
"And you may safely do so," said Mr. Narkom, shaking the young man's hand sympathetically as he took his departure.
"What do you think about it, Cleek?" he cried excitedly, when the door had closed.
"Think? I think a good many things, my dear fellow," retorted that gentleman serenely, "and one of them is, why didn't Sir Edgar break the dining-room door down at once before he made that fruitless rush around the house. He might have known that the doors would be locked at evening time."
"I never thought of that!" said Mr. Narkom. "Still, I don't see what that has to do with it. You are not insinuating that the man would harm his own sweetheart? Where is the incentive?"
"The Purple Emperor might be, or its value," was the reply. "Mind, I am not saying it is so, but I would like to know the young gentleman's financial status. Secondly, I would like to know why he has made no effort to see the girl this past fortnight since she has been back. Don't forget I met him that night, when a murder was committed at Cheyne Court. For I still hold that that woman was dead when I found her in the ballroom and the young gentleman's story about a revolver which he snatched away from her in the afternoon is all tommy-rot. The weapon was lying by her side when I saw her, and I'll take my oath there was a revolver in his own pocket when I lurched up against him in the lane. No, my friend, there are one or two points about Sir Edgar Brenton's tale that I should like to see cleared up satisfactorily, and I think I'll betake myself down to the Hampton Arms where you can join me."
Speaking, he gave a little friendly nod to Mr. Narkom, writhed his features into their semblance of the stolid policeman once more, and strode from the room.
Once outside the portals of Scotland Yard, Cleek looked keenly around at the casual people who invariably appear to haunt the precincts of the law. There was the usual street loafer and errand boy, but half-concealed by an abutting arch there stood the figure of a man, evidently on the watch for someone. Cleek, with his usual caution, slouched past, then crossed so as to get a better view.
For a second Cleek paused, then switching on his heel, turned and walked back, past the watcher once more, and into Scotland Yard. That the man outside was waiting for someone to come out was obvious, but for whom? Cleek gave vent to a little laugh. "A dollar to a ducat but whom he waits for is Lieutenant Deland," he said to himself, "and he shall have his wish."
He dashed lightly up the stairs again to Mr. Narkom's room and locked the door behind him.