It was evident that the sudden reaction of having nothing to do, after his unremitting labours of the past six months, was having an unfavourable effect upon Dr. Priestley’s temper. He roamed about the study, pulling out a file from time to time, and finding fault with Harold because some item did not come immediately to his hand. It was not until it was time to dress for dinner that he desisted from this irritating occupation. And even at dinner he was silent and morose, obviously seeking in vain for some new interest which should occupy his restless thoughts. But hardly had he and Harold finished their coffee, which they always had in the study after dinner, than Mary the parlourmaid opened the door softly. “Inspector Hanslet to see you, sir,” she announced.
The Professor turned so abruptly in his chair as seriously to endanger the coffee cup he was holding. “Inspector Hanslet!” he exclaimed. “Why show him in, of course. Good evening, Inspector, it was only this morning that Harold and I were speaking of you. I hope that you enjoyed yourself in America.”
“I did indeed, Professor,” replied Hanslet, shaking hands warmly with Dr. Priestley, and nodding cheerily to Harold. “Not that I’m not very glad to be home again; one’s own country’s best, after all. I landed at Southampton last Wednesday.”
“And now you have come back to tell us of your experiences,” said the Professor. “I am sure we shall be most interested to hear them. Did you succeed in your object?”
“Oh, yes, we rounded them up all right,” replied Hanslet. “My word, Professor, you ought to go over to New York and see the things the fellows do over there. As far as scientific detection goes, they’ve got us beat to a frazzle. You’d appreciate their methods. And they’re a cheery crowd, too. They gave me no end of a good time while I was over there.”
“Well, sit down, and tell us all about it,” said the Professor, motioning Hanslet towards a comfortable chair. “You will relieve the tedium I am feeling at having nothing to do.”
Hanslet sat down, and, as he did so, looked enquiringly at the Professor. “You say you’ve nothing to do, sir? Well, I’m very glad to hear that. The truth is that I didn’t come here to tell you my experiences. As a matter of fact, I meant to take a month’s leave when I got back, but the Chief asked me to wait a bit and take over a case which has been puzzling the Yard for several months. And I wanted to ask your advice, if you would be good enough to listen.”
The Professor rubbed his hands together briskly. “Excellent, excellent!” he exclaimed. “I told you this morning, Harold, that a problem was bound to turn up before long. By all means tell me your difficulties, Inspector. But let me beg of you to keep to facts, and not to digress into conjecture.”
Hanslet smiled. The Professor’s passion for facts was well-known to him from past experience. “Well, I expect you know as much about it as I do,” he began. “Ever since Tovey the greengrocer was killed last November, there’s been a lot in the papers—”
But the Professor interrupted him. “I should perhaps have explained, Inspector, that since last October I have scarcely opened a newspaper. My whole mind has been concentrated upon a task which is now happily finished. The name of Tovey the greengrocer is, I regret to say, utterly unfamiliar to me. I should be glad if you would treat me as one who has only lately reached this world from the planet Mars, and give me the facts without presuming that I have any previous knowledge of them.”
“Very well, Professor,” replied Hanslet. “You must have heard of a series of deaths under peculiar circumstances which have occurred in Praed Street, not half a mile away from here? Why, I read about them in New York! They caused a great sensation.”
“I am not concerned with popular sensations,” said the Professor coldly. “I admit that some rumours of such happenings penetrated the isolation with which I have endeavoured to surround myself, but I dismissed them from my mind as likely to introduce a disturbing factor. I repeat that you had better repeat the facts, as briefly as possible.”
“Very well, Professor, I will tell you the story exactly as it was told to me at the Yard,” replied Hanslet. “You will be able to see how much is fact and how much conjecture. As I was not on the spot myself, I cannot vouch for the details. Will that do?”
The Professor nodded, and turned to Harold. “Make a note of the names and dates mentioned by Inspector Hanslet,” he said. “Now, Inspector, you may proceed.”
Hanslet, whose memory for names and facts was rarely at fault, recounted as briefly as he could the course of events from the murder of Mr. Tovey in November, to the finding of Martin’s body in the cellar of Number 407, in January. The Professor interrupted him now and then to ask a question, but in the main he allowed him to tell the story in his own way. When he had finished, and the Professor had expressed himself satisfied, Hanslet continued.
“The man who’s been in charge of the case is a fellow called Whyland,
