We called on them on the following morning. They had rooms in a quiet street in Fairtown. The landlady was accustomed to have strolling companies as lodgers, and evidently had the knack of making them comfortable. Quarles had a word or two with her before seeing her visitors, and learnt that they were the nicest and quietest people she had ever had. The poor gentleman who was dead was the quietest of the company.
"Perhaps he was in love," laughed Canaries.
"I shouldn't be surprised," the landlady answered.
"With whom?"
"He seemed to spend most of his time looking at Miss Day when he didn't think she would notice him. I don't wonder. She is well worth looking at."
"Admiration is not necessarily love," remarked the professor. "By the way, have you been to the mortuary to see the body?"
"Me!" exclaimed the landlady in horror. "No. I am not one of those who take a morbid pleasure in that kind of thing. Nothing would induce me to go."
"Very sensible of you," Quarles said.
We were then taken to the Watsons' sitting-room, and I explained the reason of our call, speaking of Quarles as a brother detective. He did not at once act up to his part. Mr. and Mrs. Watson were alone when we first entered, but the others joined us almost at once, and I fancy they were prepared for a visit from me; the local inspector may have said it was likely. Quarles began to talk of music, and judging by Miss Day's interest I concluded that he knew what he was talking about; in fact, all of them were immensely interested in the old man, and for at least half an hour the real reason of our being there was not mentioned.
"Bach, no, I am not an admirer of Bach," said the professor, in answer to a question from Miss Day. "Bad taste, no doubt, but I always think musical opinion is particularly difficult to follow. By the way, I suppose Mr. Henley played some instrument?"