“There were some scattered drawings of the monoplane in father’s office; I began a study of these, thinking to chance upon the principal idea. But I was unsuccessful.
“All this, you understand, was before I had met Miss Vale, and before I was tangled up in the trouble I have just mentioned.
“The fear began to grow on me that Hume meant to use the plans to his own advantage; I knew that he had long been familiar with Locke, who was reputed to be a mechanical genius, and between them, I fancied they’d take action. I began a watch upon the reports of the Patent Office, thinking that that would finally give me something tangible to use against them. However, I never gave up my visits to Hume, or my efforts to make him admit possession of my father’s property.
“It was during one of these visits that I first met Spatola; and I was much struck by the performance of his cockatoos. My father had always held to the idea that the problem of flight would be finally solved by a study of the birds; this gave me an idea, and I took to visiting Spatola in his lodgings in Christie Place. He’d have the cockatoos fly slowly round and round the big attic, and I’d watch them and make notes.
“It was about this time that I met Miss Vale and asked her to be my wife; a very little later, in an effort to raise money, I got into the financial trouble which I have referred to. After a little the question of a time for our marriage came up; I was filled with fear and put it off; this occurred several times, and I was at my wits’ end. I could not marry with that thing hanging over me. Suppose it should turn out as I feared; imagine the shock to a high spirited girl to discover that she had married a defaulter.
“It was then that I turned to the matter of the plans as my only hope; with a perfected idea I could readily secure a large sum of money in advance. So I redoubled my efforts to have a settlement with Hume; but he only derided me as usual. Continued visits to Spatola to study the flight of the birds, showed me that the Italian was a fine fellow, well educated and with much feeling and appreciation. We became fast friends and so, little by little, I told him my story.”
“About the invention?” asked Ashton-Kirk.
“Yes.”
The investigator turned to Pendleton.
“I think,” said he, “that I now understand why Spatola grew so uncommunicative and suspicious toward the end of our interview at City Hall. We both thought it was because I spoke of shorthand. But it was perhaps because I mentioned an invention in the way of writing music. He feared that I was trying to incriminate Mr. Morris in some way.”
Pendleton nodded.
“That,” said he, “I think explains it.”
“As you no doubt know,” went on Morris, after the investigator had once more given him his attention, “Spatola liked Hume none too well. And he had reason for his hatred, poor fellow. Well, he became interested in what I told him; and when he learned that I believed my father’s papers were in all probability somewhere in Hume’s apartments, he suggested that I come to live in Christie Place under an assumed name. He thought that in time an opportunity would present itself to cross the roofs some night, enter Hume’s place by the scuttle and so possess myself of the plans.
“On the day preceding the murder, I had made up my mind to have one more try with Hume; and if that failed I intended to follow Spatola’s advice, break in and take the plans by force. I was so full of this resolution that I could not contain myself; I hinted at it to Miss Vale; and the result of that hint, you know.”
He leaned his face forward in his hands and seemed to give way to a bitter train of thought. He was evidently despondent.
“It was also some such hint upon your part that induced her to visit Locke at Dr. Mercer’s place, wasn’t it?”
Morris raised his head and nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “After the murder I suspected Locke at once of having something to do with it. I told Miss Vale; she went there without my knowledge—seeing that I had not the courage to go myself,” he added bitterly—“and demanded the plans.”
“And she learned that they were still at Hume’s—behind the portrait?”
“Yes. Locke told her—he was overcome with horror at the murder. He had merely desired to secure the plans—having somehow learned their hiding place. He had no intention of killing Hume.”
“But why did Sagon do it?—he must have had it in mind when he bought the bayonet at Bernstine’s,” said Pendleton, looking at Ashton-Kirk.
“He had. Do you recall how Burgess’ report spoke of a league of smugglers in Europe of which Hume was a leading spirit, and also of how they had been captured and nearly all but Hume were tried and convicted?”
“Yes.”
“Sagon was one of those convicted. The diamonds which Hume tried to smuggle into this country were to have been turned into money at the time of the gang’s arrest and the proceeds spent in their defense. But instead of doing this, Hume left his comrades to their fate and absconded. When Sagon gained his freedom he began a search for Hume, meaning to have revenge. This search finally led him to Locke as a person who had known Hume, and who would be likely to be able to tell where he could be found.”
“Sagon has told you this?” queried Pendleton.
“Yes; he talked freely, after he saw that his case was hopeless; and he, too, insisted that Locke did not intend to commit murder. Locke, even at the time of his meeting Sagon, was looking for someone to aid him in
