“You bet; try me.”
“Then go to the head clerk and tell him you need this chain,” picking it up, “as a piece of evidence in a murder. Do that, then come with me, and by night you will have the real murderer of Mrs. Trevor under lock and key. Be quick.”
Hardy did exactly as Dick suggested, meeting with but little opposition from the head clerk after he had convinced that individual that he was a properly accredited representative of the law.
“Come on, Tom,” called Dick, as his friend stopped for a moment to examine a tray filled with cigarette cases.
“What’s up?” he inquired, joining the two men at the door.
“Another clew,” answered Dick, briefly. “In with you both,” bundling them unceremoniously into the waiting motor. “I want half an hour’s uninterrupted talk with you and Hardy, Tom.”
Tom looked keenly at Dick’s serious face. “Drive to the Mall,” he ordered, and the chauffeur started slowly off in that direction. “Out with your story, Dick.”
The latter took the broken link out of his pocket and handed it to Tom. “I found this link in the Trevor house under the armor in the front hall. No member of that household can identify it. Wilkins, their butler, declares it was not there on the morning of the murder, as he and the footman oiled the floor then. Clark, according to the butler, wears a fob. Swarms of people called and left cards at the Trevors’ but they go no further than the front door. I am telling you all this to prove that that broken link was not where I found it before the murder, nor could it have been dropped there after the finding of the body. Now, that broken link is exactly the same design and fits in this chain which Hardy has just received from the clerk at Galt’s.”
“Well, what then?” demanded Hardy, eagerly.
“Just this.” Dick spoke slowly and distinctly so as to be heard by the deeply interested men. “This chain belongs to Count de Morny.”