"Tut-tut, man, can't you answer a plain question in a few plain words?" said Mr. Mace, impatiently. "Do you, or do you not, know anything of this affair?"
"No, I don't," answered Sweet, shortly, and very red in the face.
"I thought as much," said Mr. Mace, dryly. "In these cases the person one would naturally expect to know the most is nearly sure to know the least. But, don't be afraid, my good man; you will have an opportunity of telling all you know before long. Meanwhile, the less you say the better, except when you are asked a question by those who have a right to know."
Mr. Mace mounted a chair, and examined the iron bars which protected the two windows of the office. There was nothing the matter with them. Evidently no entrance had been effected that way.
"And now you and I will take a little walk round the premises," said Mr. Mace to Obed; so away they went, the latter ungraciously enough, although he was in a dreadful state of puzzle as to how anyone could possibly have made his way into the Bank overnight, and left it again without his knowledge.
The front door was first of all examined, and afterwards the back door, which opened into a small paved yard, shut in by a high wall protected by revolving iron spikes. There was nothing about either of them to show that they had been tampered with in any way. The two men went next into the general office, where everything seemed in its usual state, and from that they passed into the inner office. Here Mr. Mace's sharp eyes seemed drawn as if by instinct to the blood-stains on the floor.
"Ha! What are these? Who has been here?" he said.
"God bless my heart! I know no more about 'em than you do, sir!" cried Sweet, beginning once more to quake like a jelly.
"These are the marks of blood," said Mr. Mace, gravely. "And here are finger-marks of a similar kind outside this drawer."
"Why, that is one of Mr. Brancker's drawers," said Sweet.
"One of Mr. Brancker's drawers, hey? Does that gentleman keep any money in it, do you know?"
"Oh, no, sir; that's not one of the cash drawers; and, besides, the money's all put away in the strong room at night."
Mr. Mace made a careful examination of the rest of the office, but discovered nothing further out of the ordinary way. He then locked the two doors that opened into the office, and put the keys in his pocket. He and Sweet were just crossing the corridor when John Brancker, pale and breathless, came hurriedly in.
"This terrible tale, that I have just heard, cannot be true, Mr. Mace," he said.
"Only too true, I am sorry to say, Mr. Brancker. Come and see for yourself," answered the chief constable, and he led the way into Mr. Hazeldine's office.
The body had been covered with a sheet, and Doctor Barton was in the act of putting on his overcoat. He shook hands with Mr. Brancker, whom he had known for years. John's glance traveled from the table with its terrible burden to the doctor's face, and then tears rushed to his eyes. It seemed all like a hideous dream.
"We can do no more at present," said the doctor to Mr. Mace. "There will have to be a 'post-mortem,' of course; but that, I apprehend, will merely serve to verify what we know pretty well already. The tissue of the heart has doubtless been punctured by some sharp instrument--probably by the knife in your possession--and death must have been almost instantaneous."
"But who can have done it?" asked John, in a stupor of horror and grief. He lifted a corner of the sheet, and gazed for a moment on the well-known face, on which there now rested such an awful calm, while the firm-set lips gave John the impression of keeping back by main force some grim secret, untold in life and now frozen into silence for ever.
"That's just what we would all like to know," answered Mr. Mace, dryly.
"There was a light in his office when I called for my umbrella about half-past ten," said John.
"But did you see Mr. Hazeldine, and speak to him at that time?" asked Mace.
"No, I never saw him at all yesterday evening. He did not get back from London till late, and I would not disturb him."
"Then it must have been you, sir, that I heard going out about that time," said Sweet.
"Most probably. I let myself in with my pass-key, found my umbrella in the dark, and was out of the Bank again in three minutes."
"And I came upstairs when I heard the door bang, thinking it was Mr. Hazeldine who had gone," said Sweet. "I was quite dumbfounded when I opened the office-door and saw him sitting there in his chair. 'I shall not be done for about half an hour yet,' says he. 'I will let myself out when I'm ready. You needn't trouble any more, Sweet.' So with that I went, leaving him sitting there. Little did I think----"
"Never mind what you thought; tell us what happened next," said Mr. Mace.
"What happened next was that I went downstairs and got my supper," responded Sweet, with a resentful glance at the chief constable. "After that I sat and had a pipe, waiting to hear Mr. Hazeldine go, that I might lock up for the night."
Sweet paused and rubbed his nose with his forefinger.
"But you never heard him go, hey?" queried Mace.
"No, I never heard him go. I waited till half-past eleven, and then I went upstairs again."
"Perhaps you had a little snooze meanwhile," said Mace, insinuatingly.
"Me go to sleep when I'm on dooty!" exclaimed Sweet, with an indignant sniff. "No, sir, I'm not one of that sort, and nobody ever hinted at such a thing before."
"I am glad to hear it. But tell us what happened when you came upstairs for the second time."
"Not caring to disturb Mr. Hazeldine again if he was still there, I peeped through the keyhole to see whether there was a light, but I couldn't see one. Still, to make sure, I knocked, but there was no answer, so I opened the door and looked in. Everything was in darkness; the gas was out and the fire was out. Says I to myself, 'He's gone;' and with that I locked the door on the outside, feeling sure that everything was right."
"But ought not the fact of your not having heard Mr. Hazeldine leave the premises have caused you to suspect that something was wrong?"
"Mr. Hazeldine was a very quiet gentleman. He would shut the front door and make hardly any noise about it. Mr. Brancker here, begging his pardon for saying so, generally bangs the door after him."
"What did you do when you found, as you thought, that Mr. Hazeldine was gone?"
"I did what I always do--I put out the gas in the lobby and fastened up the front door for the night, and then went the rest of my rounds to see that everything was right."
"How often in the course of the night are you supposed to go your rounds?"
"Once every hour; and I'm not only supposed to go 'em, but do go 'em."
"And you neither saw nor heard anything last night out of the ordinary way--nothing, in fact, to make you suspicious that anything was wrong?"
"Nothing whatever. I was as comfortable in my mind when I turned into bed between six and seven this morning as ever I was in my life."
"The inference would seem to be that the crime was committed between the hours of half-past ten and half past eleven," said Mace. "But that is a point which will have to be inquired into more minutely later on." Then turning to John, he added, "You, Mr. Brancker, will probably be able to tell us whether there has been robbery here as well as murder," and beckoning him to follow, he led the way into the strong room.