“Quite so—quite so,” murmured the Assistant Commissioner. “Of course, we shall learn today something of his affairs from his banker. He must have banked somewhere. But surely, Chief Inspector, there is a safe or private bureau in his flat?”
“There is, sir,” said Kerry grimly; “a safe. I had it opened at six o’clock this morning. It had been hastily cleaned out; not a doubt of it. I expect Sir Lucien carried the keys on his person. You will remember, sir, that his pockets had been emptied?”
“H’m,” mused the Assistant Commissioner. “This Cubanis Cigarette Company, Chief Inspector?”
“Dummy goods!” rapped Kerry. “A blind. Just a back entrance to Kazmah’s office. Premises were leased on behalf of an agent. This agent—a reputable man of business—paid the rent quarterly. I’ve seen him.”
“And who was his client?” asked the Assistant Commissioner, displaying a faint trace of interest.
“A certain Mr. Isaacs!”
“Who can be traced?”
“Who can’t be traced!”
“His checks?”
Chief Inspector Kerry smiled, so that his large white teeth gleamed savagely.