These events made it all the more essential to make quite sure that the police were no longer inclined to look on him with suspicion; and, on leaving Joan, he went straight to Scotland Yard, and was soon received, not by Inspector Gibbs, but by Superintendent Wilson, who, having received the inspector’s report on Gloucester’s visit, had made up his mind to have a look at Ellery himself. The superintendent at once put him at his ease by telling him that his explanation, and his friend’s corroboration of it, appeared to be quite satisfactory. Ellery’s reply was to say that, in that case, perhaps he might be relieved of the presence of the heavy-footed individual who had been following him about all day. The superintendent laughed. “Yes, I think we can find something more useful for him to do,” he said. “I hope you have not resented our—shall I say?—attentions. We were bound to keep an eye on you until we were certain.” And the superintendent at once gave instructions on the house-phone that the man who had been watching Ellery need do so no longer, but should report to him in a few minutes in his room.
Ellery assured him that it was quite all right; but that he was glad to be relieved of the man, because he wanted to do a little private detecting on his own. “I know you people have got your knife into Walter Brooklyn; but I’m sure he had nothing to do with it, and I mean to do my best to find out who had.” Ellery said this deliberately, in the hope of getting the superintendent to show something of his hand; but that wary official merely wished him luck—for “we policemen,” he said, “are always glad to have a man’s character cleared, though you may not think it”—and politely bowed him out. So far as he could see, no one followed him as he left the building, and he went back to Liskeard House. He had said that he would phone; but he found it quite beyond his power to keep away.
Joan was busy with Sir Vernon when he arrived; but she came to him before long. No message had come from Walter Brooklyn, and she was getting anxious. Was it possible that he had been arrested already? Ellery promised to make inquiries, and to use every possible effort to find her stepfather; but, though he tried that evening every place he could think of in which Walter Brooklyn might be, no trace of him could be found, and there was no sign that he had been arrested. Resumed inquiries early the next morning were equally fruitless. Brooklyn had not been back to either of his Clubs, and no message had been received from him. It was under these circumstances that Joan failed to see her stepfather before the inquest opened. She was greatly relieved to see that he was present, and promising herself that she would talk to him as soon as it was over, she did nothing while the inquest was actually in progress. She passed a note to him asking him to come round and see her at Liskeard House immediately the court rose, and he nodded to her in reply across the room. She therefore felt no anxiety when he rose and left his seat before the proceedings came to an end. Thus it came about that he was arrested without her having a chance to ask him to tell his story of the events of Tuesday night.
The explanation of Walter Brooklyn’s absence was simple enough. By Thursday, life at his Clubs had been made unendurable for him by the manner, and evident suspicions, of the Club servants. He became conscious that his fellow-members were also talking about him, and he decided to go away. He had been summoned to appear at the inquest on the following morning; but he could at least have a quiet night before returning to his troubles. While Joan and Ellery were hunting London for him, Walter Brooklyn was doing himself well at a hotel in Maidenhead. He had intended to return there after seeing Joan; but the inspector’s hand on his shoulder warned him that he would sleep the coming night in jail.
At Vine Street, Brooklyn asked to be allowed to see a solicitor. The request was at once granted; and, in response to an urgent message, Mr. Fred Thomas, of New Court, arrived within half an hour. Thomas was not Brooklyn’s regular solicitor; for Carter Woodman had managed most of his business affairs. But Thomas was a Club acquaintance and a man about town himself—professionally a lawyer with few illusions and a large, if rather disreputable, practice, mainly among racing men. Walter Brooklyn’s first idea was that Thomas should make an effort to get him admitted to bail when he was brought up before the magistrate next morning, and he mentioned the names of several persons who might be prepared to stand surety for him. But Thomas at once destroyed his hopes. There was no chance, he said, of securing bail on a charge of murder: he was afraid his client would have to make up his mind to stay where he was for the present. At any rate, Thomas would see to it that he was made as comfortable as could be. There were ways of doing these things, and Thomas was an expert hand at dealing with the police. What he could do would be done; but the main thing was for his client to give him every fact that could possibly be helpful in preparing the defence. They began to discuss the case.
Meanwhile, Ellery, who had guessed at once the
