there was no response.
“I am afraid this is not my affair,” said John Lexman gathering up his coat. “What do you wish me to do, Sir George?”
“Come along tomorrow morning and see us, Lexman,” said Sir George, offering his hand.
“Where are you staying!” asked T.X.
“At the Great Midland,” replied the other, “at least my bags have gone on there.”
“I’ll come along and see you tomorrow morning. It’s curious this should have happened the night you returned,” he said, gripping the other’s shoulder affectionately.
John Lexman did not speak for the moment.
“If anything happened to Kara,” he said slowly, “if the worst that was possible happened to him, believe me I should not weep.”
T.X. looked down into the other’s eyes sympathetically.
“I think he has hurt you pretty badly, old man,” he said gently.
John Lexman nodded.
“He has, damn him,” he said between his teeth.
The Chief Commissioner’s motor car was waiting outside and in this T.X., Mansus, and a detective-sergeant were whirled off to Cadogan Square. Fisher was in the hall when they rung the bell and opened the door instantly.
He was frankly surprised to see his visitors. Mr. Kara was in his room he explained resentfully, as though T.X. should have been aware of the fact without being told. He had heard no bell ringing and indeed had not been summoned to the room.
“I have to see him at eleven o’clock,” he said, “and I have had standing instructions not to go to him unless I am sent for.”
T.X. led the way upstairs, and went straight to Kara’s room. He knocked, but there was no reply. He knocked again and on this failing to evoke any response kicked heavily at the door.
“Have you a telephone downstairs!” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied Fisher.
T.X. turned to the detective-sergeant.
“‘Phone to the Yard,” he said, “and get a man up with a bag of tools. We shall have to pick this lock and I haven’t got my case with me.”
“Picking the lock would be no good, sir,” said Fisher, an interested spectator, “Mr. Kara’s got the latch down.”
“I forgot that,” said T.X. “Tell him to bring his saw, we’ll have to cut through the panel here.”
While they were waiting for the arrival of the police officer T.X. strove to attract the attention of the inmates of the room, but without success.
“Does he take opium or anything!” asked Mansus.
Fisher shook his head.
“I’ve never known him to take any of that kind of stuff,” he said.
T.X. made a rapid survey of the other rooms on that floor. The room next to Kara’s was the library, beyond that was a dressing room which, according to Fisher, Miss Holland had used, and at the farthermost end of the corridor was the dining room.
Facing the dining room was a small service lift and by its side a storeroom in which were a number of trunks, including a very large one smothered in injunctions in three different languages to “handle with care.” There was nothing else of interest on this floor and the upper and lower floors could wait. In a quarter of an hour the carpenter had arrived from Scotland Yard, and had bored a hole in the rosewood panel of Kara’s room and was busily applying his slender saw.
Through the hole he cut T.X. could see no more than that the room was in darkness save for the glow of a blazing fire. He inserted his hand, groped for the knob of the steel latch, which he had remarked on his previous visit to the room, lifted it and the door swung open.
“Keep outside, everybody,” he ordered.
He felt for the switch of the electric, found it and instantly the room was flooded with light. The bed was hidden by the open door. T.X. took one stride into the room and saw enough. Kara was lying half on and half off the bed. He was quite dead and the bloodstained patch above his heart told its own story.
T.X. stood looking down at him, saw the frozen horror on the dead man’s face, then drew his eyes away and slowly surveyed the room. There in the middle of the carpet he found his clue, a bent and twisted little candle such as you find on children’s Christmas trees.
Chapter XIV
It was Mansus who found the second candle, a stouter affair. It lay underneath the bed. The telephone, which stood on a fairly large-sized table by the side of the bed, was overturned and the receiver was on the floor. By its side were two books, one being the “Balkan Question,” by Villari, and the other “Travels and Politics in the Near East,” by Miller. With them was a long, ivory paperknife.
There was nothing else on the bedside-table save a silver cigarette box. T.X. drew on a pair of gloves and examined the bright surface for fingerprints, but a superficial view revealed no such clue.
“Open the window,” said T.X., “the heat here is intolerable. Be very careful, Mansus. By the way, is the window fastened?”
“Very well fastened,” said the superintendent after a careful scrutiny.
He pushed back the fastenings, lifted the window and as he did, a harsh bell rang in the basement.
“That is the burglar alarm, I suppose,” said T.X.; “go down and stop that bell.”
He addressed Fisher, who stood with a troubled face at the door. When he had disappeared T.X. gave a significant glance to one of the waiting officers and the man sauntered after the valet.
Fisher stopped the bell and came back to the hall and stood before the hall fire, a very troubled man. Near the fire was a big, oaken writing table and on this there lay a small envelope which he did not remember having seen before, though it might have been there for some time, for he had spent a greater portion of the evening in the kitchen with the cook.
He picked up the envelope, and, with a start, recognised that it was addressed to himself. He opened it and took out a card. There were only a few words written upon it, but they were sufficient to banish all the colour from his face and set his hands shaking. He took the envelope and card and flung them into the fire.
It so happened that, at that moment, Mansus had called from upstairs, and the officer, who had been told off to keep the valet under observation, ran up in answer to the summons. For a moment Fisher hesitated, then hatless and coatless as he was, he crept to the door, opened it, leaving it ajar behind him and darting down the steps, ran like a hare from the house.
The doctor, who came a little later, was cautious as to the hour of death.
“If you got your telephone message at 10.25, as you say, that was probably the hour he was killed,” he said. “I could not tell within half an hour. Obviously the man who killed him gripped his throat with his left hand — there are the bruises on his neck — and stabbed him with the right.”
It was at this time that the disappearance of Fisher was noticed, but the cross-examination of the terrified Mrs. Beale removed any doubt that T.X. had as to the man’s guilt.
“You had better send out an ‘All Stations’ message and pull him in,” said T.X. “He was with the cook from the moment the visitor left until a few minutes before we rang. Besides which it is obviously impossible for anybody to have got into this room or out again. Have you searched the dead man?”
Mansus produced a tray on which