‘That I can’t say. It was Mr Balfour’s habit to keep his plans or motives to himself. Many a time I would start off with him having no idea of our errand or our destination.’
‘Did you go to the front door first?’
Sewell began to look more and more amazed; Keith Ramsay became more and more hesitant and embarrassed.
‘We did not,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Mr Balfour stopped at a narrow alley that runs part way through the block, and we came along that until we reached the rear of this house, and Mr Balfour asked me if I had a pocket-knife and if I could force the window catch with it. I could and did, but I do not look upon it as a felonious entrance for we had no wrong intent. If Mr Sewell had been here, Mr Balfour would have knocked at the door and been admitted.’
‘Are you often here of an evening, Mr Sewell?’
‘Oh, yes, frequently.’
‘And does Mr Balfour, when he visits you, always come to the back door?’
‘Why, I don’t remember. No, not always.’
‘Sometimes?’
‘Y-Yes.’
‘I think, Mr Sewell, that you must admit that this is the first time the gentleman ever came here and arrived at the rear entrance. Isn’t that right?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t remember. What has that to do with it, anyway?’
‘Only that, unless it was his habit, it seems very strange for Mr Balfour to make the entrance he made this evening.’
‘Oh, very well, we’ll agree it was strange. But of no consequence as I can see.’
A heavy tread was heard, as of someone coming through the big front room. In a moment a shock-headed youth appeared in the doorway.
‘Hello,’ he said, cordially. ‘What’s going on?’
‘How did you get in?’ asked Burnet, gruffly.
‘Through the front door with my latch-key. My God! What’s that?’
He stared at the still form, now covered with a spread from the police equipment.
‘Who—who is it?’ he stammered.
Sewell spoke gently. ‘Sit down, Gill. Inspector, this is Mr Gill, my assistant. He has a key and comes and goes at will.’
‘Is it somebody dead?’ Gill persisted, looking now at Manton.
‘Yes, Gill,’ said the Inspector, ‘it is Mr Philip Balfour. As you are here, will you give an account of your own doings this evening? Where have you been since, say, nine o’clock?’
‘Well, no, Inspector; I don’t care to give an account of myself, unless you have reason to demand it. Was Mr Balfour murdered? Or why the Criminal authorities?’
‘Yes, Mr Balfour was stabbed by an unknown assailant.’
‘Gee! Can you find out who did it?’
‘We hope to, and we fully expect to. You are not helping us by your refusal to answer my question.’
‘It wouldn’t help you any if I did answer it. And I haven’t been in this vicinity until just now. I was passing, I saw a light, so I came in. Your henchmen in the front room didn’t want me to pass, but I rather insisted and they gave in. What about it all, Mr Sewell?’
‘Do you know anything about two small mathematical books that are missing from Mr Balfour’s Lewis Carroll collection?’ Sewell said.
‘Sure I do. Want ’em? Here they are.’ He took from his overcoat pocket two small books and handed them to Ramsay.
‘Yes, these are the right ones,’ and Ramsay laid them on the table beside him. ‘Thank you.’
‘What are you doing with them, Gill?’ and John Sewell looked a bit accusing.
‘It’s all right, Guv’nor. Tell you all about it some other time. Of no interest to these uninterested onlookers. Get down to cases. Who killed poor old Balfour?’
‘We’ll find out,’ Burnet told him. ‘Let’s hope it wasn’t you.’
‘Don’t try to get me fussed,’ Gill said; ‘I’d hate to kill anybody. I never have, as yet, and I doubt I ever shall. Did some person or persons unknown kill Mr Balfour? I’ve a right to know about things, haven’t I, Mr Sewell?’
‘Yes, so far as I am concerned. In my opinion, a marauder came here, masked, and stabbed Mr Balfour with our old English skewer. The long silver one. There it is on the table.’
‘I see it,’ and Gill rose and went to the table. ‘Don’t be alarmed, Inspector, I shan’t touch it. What’s going to happen next?’
‘This, for one thing.’ Sewell looked anxious. ‘I want you to look, Gill, and see if that little book that came today is all right.’
Gill went round the room, taking books from the shelves, here and there diving into well-filled chests, opening certain drawers, and camouflaging his real place of search, turned back to his employer, and said:
‘No, Mr Sewell, it is not in the place I left it.’
‘No? That’s bad. Inspector, I am fairly positive that a very valuable book has been stolen from this room. A volume worth, to a collector, perhaps a hundred thousand dollars.’
‘Now, now, Mr Sewell, I’ve heard collectors tell big yarns, but that’s a whale this Jonah finds hard to swallow.’
‘Value it at less, if you choose, but call it one of the most eagerly desired books in America. And now can you bring this session to an end? Or can you excuse me? I am deeply saddened at the tragic death of my friend, but this loss is not unconnected with the case. The book in question was destined for Mr Balfour and it is not impossible that the intruder who stabbed him also stole the book. There you have a motive. But in any case, I want to get busy about finding the volume. If you want to stay here—’
‘On the contrary, I do not want to stay,’ but the Inspector looked perplexed. ‘I think I will let them take Mr Balfour’s body to the morgue, and I myself will go to the Balfour home, and acquaint the family with the facts of the case, in so far as we know them. Mr Ramsay will go with me and, of course, Captain Burnet. What is the family?’
Sewell answered. ‘Only his wife, I think. No one staying there, is there, Ramsay?’
‘No, not just now; they have lots of guests, coming and going, but nobody at present.’
‘There was a chap calling when I was there just now,’ Sewell said, ‘but he’ll most likely be gone.’
‘If not, we’ll chuck him out. Come on, Inspector, let’s go. I want to get some dope on this case. Sergeant Glass, here, will see to the morgue arrangements and he’ll make the report, res gestae evidence and all.’
Captain Burnet’s energy overcame Inspector Manton’s natural inclination toward delay and they were in the elevator, going up to the Balfour apartment, before any word had been said as to who should tell Mrs Balfour of the tragedy.
‘I’d better do it,’ Sewell said, as they walked along the hall. ‘You’re too nervous, Ramsay.’
Keith nodded his head without speaking.
He had his key with him but he preferred to let Burnet ring the bell, which Potter answered.
Sewell stepped forward.
‘We must see Mrs Balfour, Potter,’ he said; ‘give us a room where we can have a conference. The matter is important.’
The butler showed them into a formal reception room