"The professor is an inventor, and very secretive about his work." With good reason, I thought, but I did not elaborate. Instead, there was a more pressing matter I needed to discuss. "Inspector, Sykes threatened to harm my parents if I did not comply with his wishes. If you cannot catch him quickly, and round up all his men into the bargain, I must ask that you let me return home so that I might protect my family."
"Men?"
"Why yes. He led me to believe there was an organisation behind him."
Cox smiled at me, shaking his head. "He would say something like that, wouldn't he? Keep you on your toes, when like as not it's just him."
"But what if it's the truth? Inspector, if there's anything you can do to protect my parents—"
"I will send word to the local police. Don't concern yourself in that regard." Cox glanced at his notebook. "Now, what else do you have?"
"Sykes told me that he killed Jules Hartlow," I said quietly.
The inspector looked surprised. "Did he now?"
"A—and I think he might have killed Arthur Staines as well. Last night… he warned me there would be another death in the newspaper." I looked down at the floor, lowering my voice. "I thought it was just a threat," I said quietly. "Had I known he really meant to kill again—"
"Don't trouble yourself, Mr Jones. Had you come into the station with this story, it would have been dismissed as lunacy. You would not believe the number of crackpots who spin tales of such-and-such threatening a neighbour and the like." Cox leaned forwards. "Shall I tell you how I see things?"
"Please."
"I surmise that William Sykes learned of the earlier murders before they appeared in the newspaper, and claimed the credit in order to scare you. He did kill a man in the Crown and Feather last night, but that man was known to us. The dead man was a nasty piece of work, Mr Jones, and the world is better off without him."
"But the dagger… it was left in my study! He knew exactly where I work each day!"
"It's likely he's visited this house before. Business dealings with the professor, perhaps."
"So the professor might know him?"
"Indeed. In your place I would have gone to the professor immediately. But, of course, you were motivated by concern for your parents, and one must make allowances." Next, the inspector returned to my description of Sykes, ensuring I had shared every detail. When we'd finished, he closed his notebook with a snap, tucking it away. "We will put a description about and see whether we can't snare this fellow. But if he should get in touch to organise another meet, you must report it to the police immediately. Is that clear?"
I nodded.
"We will surround the place, and the moment you identify Sykes to us, we'll take him." Cox stood, and he gripped my shoulder. "With any luck, this will be over soon. Now, I must speak with the professor to see whether he has any knowledge of Sykes."
"D—do you have to do that?"
He frowned at me. "Don't you want to find this killer?"
"Yes, but if you reveal my involvement… well, the professor has a temper, and if he's shouting at me, he won't be assisting you."
Cox's lips twisted in amusement. "Yes, well, I'm sure I can ask him about Sykes without mentioning you. After all, we don't want you getting fired just yet, do we? You'd be no use to Sykes then, and no use to me either."
The inspector directed me towards the door, and we took the stairs to the lower hallway. He nodded to the constable at the dining room door, who stood aside to let us through.
"I must protest at this treatment!" cried the professor, immediately he saw us. "Held prisoner in my own home? Why, it's unconscionable!"
"If you'll just sit down a moment…" began Cox.
"Sit down? Sit down? I've been doing nothing but sit down for the best part of an hour, and I'm telling you I'm sick of it!"
"I have one more question for you, and then my men and I will leave you in peace."
This quietened the professor. Well, a little at least. "Go on then. Ask this precious question."
"Do you know of a man with a scar all the way down one side of his face?" Cox indicated which side he meant by drawing a finger down his cheek.
"No. Should I?"
Cox shook his head. "It's not important. It came up during my investigation."
"There," said the professor. "And now you can leave. I'm sure you don't need me to show you the door, as you've used it all too frequently these past few days."
The inspector gave him a quick nod, offered Roberta a far more gentlemanly bow, and then gave me a significant look. "No doubt I shall hear from you soon," he said, and then he collected the constable at the door and departed.
"Well," said the professor.
"Father, don't start," said Roberta. "The police are only doing their job."
"Yes, and which job is that?" He turned to me. "And you, sir. Why did they need your presence upstairs?"
"The inspector had a few questions about the ledgers, that's all. I did not divulge any information about your business, you can be sure of that."
"Glad to hear it," remarked the professor. "Well, the day is already half gone and I'm behind with everything. Everything, I tell you! Roberta, would you be so good as to—"
"Father, please," groaned Roberta. "Just let me have one hour of peaceful sleep."
"Hmm, yes, of course." The professor looked at me. "Mr Jones, you will help me in her stead."
"Help with what, sir?"
"Oh, don't worry, my boy. It's nothing too taxing,
