was moving faster than I shall ever move again.’
Hansom snarled disgustedly. The superintendent brooded for a moment. ‘I don’t think there’s much doubt left that he’s our man,’ he said. ‘It looks as though we shan’t be needing you after all, Gently. I think we shall be able to pin something on young Huysmann and make it stick.’
‘Gently doesn’t think so,’ broke in Hansom.
‘You’ve come to a different conclusion?’ asked the superintendent.
Gently shrugged and shook his head woodenly from side to side. ‘I don’t know anything yet. I haven’t had time.’
‘He found the knife for us, sir,’ put in the constable defiantly, thrusting it under Walker’s nose. The superintendent took it from him and weighed it in his hand. ‘Obviously a throwing knife,’ he said. ‘We’ve just found out that young Huysmann used to be in a knife-throwing act before he went into the Wall of Death.’
‘That’s one for the book!’ exclaimed Hansom delightedly.
‘All in all, I think we’ve got the makings of a pretty sound case. I’m much obliged to you, Gently, for consenting to help out, but the case has resolved itself pretty simply. I don’t suppose you’ll be sorry to get back to your fishing.’
Gently poised a peppermint cream on the end of his thumb and inspected it sadly. ‘Who was watching Huysmann from the room across the passage this afternoon?’ he enquired, revolving his thumb through a half- circle.
The superintendent stared.
‘You might print the door handle and the back of the chair that stands just inside,’ continued Gently, ‘and photograph the marks left on the carpet. Then again,’ he turned his thumb back with slow care, ‘you might wonder to yourself how the knife came to be in the chest in the hall. I can’t help you in the slightest. I’m still wondering myself…’
‘Well, I’m not!’ barked Hansom. ‘It’s where young Huysmann hid it.’
‘Why?’ murmured Gently, ‘why did he remove the knife at all? Why should he bother when the knife couldn’t be traced to him in any way? And if he did, why did he take it into the hall to hide it? Why didn’t he take it away with him?’
Hansom gaped at him with his mouth open. The superintendent chipped in: ‘Those are interesting points, Gently, and since you’ve made them we shall certainly follow them up. But I don’t think they affect the main issue very materially. We need not complicate a matter when a simple answer is to hand. As it rests, there is no suspicion except in one direction and the suspicion there is very strong. It is our duty to show how strong and to produce young Huysmann to answer it. I do not think it is our duty, or yours, to hunt out side issues that may weaken or confuse our case.’
Gently made the suspicion of a bow and flipped the peppermint cream from his thumb to his mouth. Hansom sneered. The superintendent turned to the constable. ‘Fetch the men in with the stretcher,’ he said, and when the constable had departed, ‘Trencham is going to meet me at the fairground with a search warrant. You’d better come along, Hansom. I’m going to search young Huysmann’s caravan.’
Gently said: ‘I’m still interested in this case.’
The superintendent paused. He was not too sure of his position. While the matter was doubtful, the sudden appearance of Gently on the scene had seemed providential and he had gratefully enlisted the Chief Inspector’s aid, but now that things were straightening out he began to regret it. There seemed to be nothing here that his own men couldn’t handle. It was only a matter of time before young Huysmann was picked up: the superintendent was positive in his own mind that he was the man. And the honour and glory of securing a murder conviction was not to be lightly tossed away.
At the same time, he had brought Gently into it, and though the official channels had not been used, he was not sure if he had the power to dismiss him out of hand. Neither was he sure if it was policy.
‘Stop in if you like,’ he said, ‘it’s up to you.’
Gently nodded. ‘It’s unofficial. I won’t claim pay for it.’
‘Will you come along with us to the fairground?’
Gently pursed his lips. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s Saturday night. I feel tired. I may even go to the pictures…’
The constable left in charge was the constable who had found the knife. Gently, who had lingered to see his finger-printing done, called him aside. ‘You were present at the preliminary questioning?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir. I came down with Inspector Hansom, sir.’
‘Which cinema did Miss Huysmann go to?’
‘To the Carlton, sir.’
‘Ah,’ said Gently.
The constable regarded him with shining eyes. ‘You’ll excuse me, sir, but I would like to know how you knew where the knife was,’ he said.
Gently smiled at him comfortably. ‘I just guessed, that’s all.’
‘But you guessed right, sir, first go.’
‘That was just my luck. We have to be lucky, to be detectives.’
‘Then it wasn’t done by — deduction, sir?’
Gently’s smile broadened and he felt for his bag of peppermint creams. ‘Have one,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Thank you, sir. It’s Letts.’
‘Well, Letts, my first guess was that there’d been some post-mortem monkeying because the knife was missing and there was no reason why it should have been. My second guess was that the party who was watching from the other room this afternoon was the party concerned.’
‘How did you know the party was watching this afternoon, sir?’
‘Because the room was cleaned up before lunch and it was cleaned up today before lunch — witness the tulips with dew on them and the absence of dust. Hence the marks on the carpet were made after lunch. My third guess was that the party concerned was an inside party and not an outside party, and that the odds were in favour of them hiding the knife in the house. Now a person with a bloody knife to hide doesn’t waste time being subtle. It could have been in the chest-of-drawers at the end of the passage, but the polished floor in that direction has an unmarked film of dust. The only other easy hiding-place was the chest in the hall. So I guessed that.’
The constable shifted his helmet a fraction and rubbed his head. ‘Then it was all guessing after all, sir?’ he said slowly.
‘All guessing,’ Gently reiterated.
‘And yet you were right, sir.’
‘Which,’ said Gently, ‘goes to show how much luck you need to be a detective, Letts… don’t forget that when you apply for a transfer.’
‘But you’ve given the case a different look, sir. It could be that somebody else was in this job as well as young Huysmann.’
‘Could be,’ agreed Gently, ‘or it may just mean that somebody’s got some pretty virile explaining to do. Remember what the super said, Letts. He was quite right. It’s our job to make a case, not to break it. Justice belongs to the court. It’s nothing to do with the police.’
The hall, which was gloomy enough by evening light, seemed even gloomier when lit by the low-power chandelier which depended from its high ceiling. As Gently passed through it on his way out a tall figure stepped towards him. Gently paused enquiringly.
‘Chief Inspector Gently?’
‘That’s me.’
‘I’m Rod Leaming, Mr Huysmann’s manager. They told me you wanted to see me.’
He was a man of about forty, big, dark-haired, dark-eyed, with small well-set ears and features that were boldly handsome. His voice was rounded and pleasant. Gently said: ‘Ah yes. You were at the football match. How did the City get on?’
There was a moment’s silence, then Leaming said: ‘They won, three-one.’
‘It was a good match, they tell me.’
Leaming gave a little shrug. ‘There were a lot of missed chances. They might have won six-one without being
