Murder in the Bookshop. Carolyn Wells

volumes. Some he sold at once, some he has kept. I foresee no trouble with him for he is an amiable sort and I am quite willing to cede him all his legal rights.’

      ‘You are generous, Mrs Balfour. I shall see you again after I have learned more of the police reports. I shall devote my time alternately to the question of the theft of the book and the killing of Mr Balfour. At this moment they seem to me to be more or less connected, but I may be mistaken about that. Rest assured, I shall do my best in every particular and report to you whenever it seems advisable.’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Stone,’ and Alli spoke appreciatively, but she showed a seeming despondency that had not before been noticeable. ‘You may, of course, go in and out of this apartment as you wish. You may have a key, if you like; indeed, if it would better suit your work, you may have a room here. We have innumerable empty rooms.’

      ‘Thank you very much, but I prefer to stay in my own home when possible. I live down in the East Thirties, and if I need a key, I will ask for it. Tell me, Mrs Balfour, did your husband attend auctions of rare books?’

      ‘Never. Such purchases as he wanted to make from an auction sale, he instructed Mr Ramsay to look after, or put them in charge of Mr Sewell. He had no liking to mingle with humanity and almost never went into a shop.’

      ‘Yes, he was queer that way,’ Sewell agreed. ‘He often came to my shop, but more as a club than a shop. Several of our mutual friends would drop in there of an evening, and we would have talks that wouldn’t disgrace the old Mermaid Tavern. Well, Stone, shall we get along? I suppose we’ll all be expected here in the morning. Good night, Mrs Balfour, good night, Ramsay.’

      Stone drew his hostess a little aside, and whispered, ‘Watch your step with young Guy. Don’t cede him anything without legal advice.’

      And then, with kindly good nights, he went away.

      In the safety of the sound-proof room, Keith Ramsay took Alli in his arms.

       CHAPTER V

       INQUIRIES

      AFTER a few moments’ silence, he led her to a chair and sat down beside her.

      ‘It is all so dreadful, dear, I hate to say what I must say. But I must warn you that we have to be very careful. We must never come into this room to talk, as we are here now. We will be watched every moment of our lives from now on. There is danger, bad danger lurking about, and we must use our best weapons of skill and cleverness to elude it. First, darling, I did not kill your husband and I did not steal his book. These two things you must believe only because I tell you—I have no other proof.’

      ‘You need no proof, my Keith. I would know, without a word from you. And to you, I want to say, just for once—there is no one else I can say it to—I am glad Philip is gone. This sounds heathenish, I know, but he made my life so utterly miserable, he treated me so abominably, he hurt me so cruelly, I cannot grieve for him. You’ve no idea of the ways he made me suffer. I know you had no hand in his death, but—I shouldn’t care if you had.’

      ‘Hush, Alli, such things must not be in your heart. Try to put them out. And get this. We must never, either of us, by word or look betray our affection. Burnet suspects it already, and perhaps Manton. If they feel sure of it, they will begin to suspect not only me—but you, my precious. They will say that we connived at the murder, that we fixed up the plan in collusion, that we schemed to get rid of Philip so that we might belong to one another. It is so palpable, so clear on the face of things, that we wanted him out of the way and managed to accomplish that fact. Once they suspect us of guilty partnership they will believe the worst of us. So, realize this, we must not give them one iota of reason to suppose we are more than merely friendly. We must act as if I was just staying for a time to settle up the unfinished business in the library affairs. And now we must go. The servants, prowling, must never find us alone—’

      ‘Can I never see you alone? Oh, Keith—’

      ‘Not in the house; at least, not for a time. We can go for a drive sometimes, out into the country, but it must be on some apparent, definite business connected with the books. You must see the danger; you must realize what it would mean to have you suspected, either with me or alone, of any connection with Balfour’s death. In the morning the police will come, and you must be discreet and careful of what you say. But don’t appear