‘Please tell me a little more definitely, Mr Ramsay,’ Stone said, ‘just why you were planning to leave Mr Balfour?’
‘I have told you—on business of my own. It has no reference to Mr Balfour in any way. It is an enterprise of my own, that I may put over in London, and I may not. From the very nature of the business, it must be kept secret and confidential until preliminary terms are arranged. This cannot be done without my presence in London, and cannot be made public at this time. If I am held on suspicion of being instrumental in the death of my employer, I shall have to stay here, of course. Also, if Mrs Balfour wishes to engage my services in the matter of settling up some library business, in which several important purchases are in process of adjustment, I will stay for a time, until such matters can be looked over and put in proper form for my successor.’
‘I do want you to stay, Mr Ramsay, at least for a time, until I find a satisfactory successor—if you feel you must go.’ Alli spoke in a casual tone, but Fleming Stone’s trained vision caught the merest glance of understanding that flashed between her and the librarian.
He sensed at once that there were undercurrents and side issues to this case that he had not looked for. If Ramsay and Mrs Balfour were in love with one another, that altered the whole situation.
‘I am quite willing to pay a higher salary than Mr Balfour was paying, but I cannot carry on the library without expert assistance,’ Alli went on. ‘I do not want Guy Balfour to take it in charge, for with the best intentions he would, in his ignorance, make grave errors. I hope Mr Ramsay will consent to remain and that he can take up his London business later.’
‘I fear I cannot decide that question tonight,’ Ramsay said, thoughtfully.
‘Nor do I want to,’ Alli said. ‘It may be that the library is not to be mine, after all. Perhaps it is left entirely to Guy. And, now he is one of the household, he will doubtless take over such duties and privileges as he is entitled to. I am not sure I shall remain in this large apartment, nor do I think Guy would want to run it alone. But all those questions are unimportant. The thing is, Mr Stone, to discover who killed my husband and where is his valuable book.’
‘Quite right, Mrs Balfour. And those matters cannot be taken up until morning. I shall have to ask some routine questions, of course. Will you detail briefly what you did during the early evening?’
‘Surely. After dinner, Mr Balfour said he and Mr Ramsay were going out on an errand, but would be back early. They left here about ten.’
‘Did you know where they were going?’
‘I knew they were going to Mr Sewell’s shop, but I did not know they meant to go in by the window.’
‘Then, were you here alone?’
‘Mr Sewell came, and Mr Swinton came, he is a man who lives in this house—oh, yes, and Mr Wiley came—he lives in this house too. They all came to see Mr Balfour, of course, and each stayed a few moments to talk to me.’
‘Now, Mrs Balfour,’ and Stone gave her one of his pleasing smiles, ‘this is the first I have heard of any definite time or times regarding the events of the evening. Please straighten out these callers, won’t you? Which came first?’
‘Mr Swinton came first. He came very soon after Mr Balfour left. He is a man who lives down on the second floor, a book-collector in a small way. He is everlastingly bringing a book for Mr Balfour or Mr Ramsay to pass judgment on. Tonight, he had a copy of Omar Khayyám, which he thought was a great find. He was vexed to find Mr Balfour not at home, and he stayed a few moments, looking at some of the books in the library.’
‘At what time did he come?’
‘It was quarter past ten when I came into the reception room, where he was waiting for me. I was tempted not to see him, for he is a bore, but Mr Balfour was always courteous to him and liked to have me nice to his friends. Well, then Mr Sewell came in—he, too, wanted to see Mr Balfour.’
‘I sure did,’ Sewell declared. ‘I didn’t bring the book with me as I didn’t come direct from the shop. But I wanted to tell him I had it and see his pleasure at the information.’
‘What time was this?’
‘I don’t know, Stone, I never know the time.’
‘It must have been less than half-past ten,’ Alli said, ‘for it was very soon after Mr Swinton arrived. I had just time to tell him Mr Balfour was not at home. I gave him permission to go in the library to look at the Omar Khayyáms in our collection and then Mr Sewell came. He was here maybe ten minutes or less, when there was a telephone call for him and he went away.’
‘The telephone from your place, Sewell?’
‘Yes, Ramsay calling. I left at once, and went right down to my shop. You can check up times by the police. They came in just as I did.’
‘Yes,’ Stone agreed, ‘that will be all right. Mrs Balfour, I think you said you had another caller, also a tenant of this house?’
‘I did. Pretty soon after Mr Sewell went away Mr Swinton left. He said he would come again to see Mr Balfour about his book. As I thought likely Mr Balfour and Mr Ramsay would stay at Mr Sewell’s, talking over books in general, and as it was about eleven, I concluded to go to bed. I was just about to ring for my maid when Potter announced Mr Wiley.’
‘Pete Wiley?’ asked Sewell, seeming astonished.
‘Yes; he, too, lives in this house and he sometimes consults Mr Balfour. But he is of the know-it-all type. I’ve heard him tell my husband that he was wrong on subjects to which he had given years of research!’
‘This annoyed Mr Balfour?’
‘Not at all. Had the man been his equal in booklore, he would have resented it, but he never would deign to argue with an ignoramus.’
‘Better steer clear of Pete Wiley, Stone,’ John Sewell informed him. ‘He’s one of those men who will build up a quarrel on the merest difference of opinion. He bothered the life out of Mr Balfour and Ramsay here. He pestered me until I told him what I thought of him. He doesn’t know a holograph from a hole in the wall but he sets up as an expert. If you have the pleasure of talking to him don’t mention the Gwinnett book. In fact, don’t mention it to anyone until we know where we stand. Mrs Balfour, please don’t tell of it, either. Ramsay, I know, will keep the secret. I don’t want it talked about until I have talked with Mr Balfour’s lawyer and his executors.’
‘Of course,’ Stone told him, ‘we’ll all agree to that. What about young Balfour?’
‘I think we can’t tell you that,’ Ramsay said, ‘until we know clearly how matters stand. He may be my employer, you know. And, if so, he may dismiss me.’
‘This conference must draw to a close,’ Stone said, emphatically. ‘Mrs Balfour has had quite enough nervous excitement for one evening. And tomorrow, Mrs Balfour, I suppose it will be difficult for me to see you. You will be occupied with plans and arrangements and conferences with your lawyers and other advisors, to say nothing of the demands the police may make on your time.’
‘Yes, Mr Stone, but if you will take this case in hand, I will make it a point to be ready to see you whenever you desire. Whatever the exact terms of