Markham looked at his watch and rose with determination.
“There’s no point in waiting for Arnesson’s return. The sooner we arrest him the better.” He was about to give Heath an order when Vance intervened.
“Don’t force the issue, Markham. You haven’t any real evidence against the man. It’s too delicate a situation for aggression. We must go carefully or we’ll fail.”
“I realize that the finding of the typewriter and the note-book is not conclusive,” concurred Markham. “But the identification by the child——”
“Oh, my dear fellow! What weight would a jury attach to a frightened five-year-old girl’s identification without powerful contribut’ry evidence? A clever lawyer could nullify it in five minutes. And even assuming you could make the identification hold, what would it boot you? It wouldn’t connect Arnesson in any way with the Bishop murders. You could only prosecute him for attempted kidnapping,—the child’s unharmed, remember. And if you should, through a legal miracle, get a doubtful conviction, Arnesson would receive at most a few years in the bastille. That wouldn’t end this horror. . . . No, no. You mustn’t be precipitate.”
Reluctantly Markham resumed his seat. He saw the force of Vance’s argument.
“But we can’t let this thing go on,” he declared ferociously. “We must stop this maniac some way.”
“Some way—yes.” Vance began pacing the room restlessly. “We may be able to wangle the truth out of him by subterfuge: he doesn’t know yet that we’ve found the child. . . . It’s possible Professor Dillard could assist us——” He halted and stood looking down at the floor. “Yes! That’s our one chance. We must confront Arnesson with what we know when the professor is present. The situation is sure to force an issue of some kind. The professor now will do all in his power to help convict Arnesson.”
“You believe he knows more than he had told us?”
“Undoubtedly. I’ve told you so from the first. And when he hears of the Little-Miss-Muffet episode, it’s not unlikely he’ll supply us with the evidence we need.”