“Easy, easy,” cautioned Latimer. “Cool down, John, and let us discuss this matter rationally. What have we discovered against Richards?”
“That he was playing the market, that he was in need of funds, and that he had in his possession bonds belonging to Judith which had been stolen on Tuesday night from my brother’s safe, near which we found Austin’s body in the small hours of Wednesday morning.” John Hale moderated his excited manner. “Pretty damning evidence.”
“As far as it goes,” agreed Latimer. “Now, to make it conclusive you must prove: first, that Richards was at your house between Tuesday midnight and one A. M. Wednesday; and secondly, that he knew the combination of your brother’s safe. Recollect, it was not forced open.”
“I’ll make it my business to find out.” John Hale reached for his hat and his gloves which he had tossed on the desk. “I am also going to have inquiries made regarding Richards’ career.”
“An excellent idea,” exclaimed Latimer. “But you had better employ a private detective agency, John, rather than the local police. Try the Burroughs Company, they handled some work for our firm when Johnston, the bank cashier, hypothecated stock belonging to us.”
“Where’s their office?” asked John Hale, jotting down the name on the back of an envelope.
“In the Fendall Building, corner of John Marshall Place.”
John Hale completed the address and replaced the envelope in his breast pocket.
“Listen, Frank,” he began. “Austin’s murder was unpremeditated—the weapon used proves that. No man would deliberately kill another with a pair of shears.”
Latimer shook his head in doubt. “You are taking a great deal for granted,” he protested.