“So you will,” said the inspector. “Very serious trouble.”
“All the same, inspector, I’m afraid we must risk it. Very likely we shall be free to tell you the whole story, or what we know of it, in a day or two. But we won’t tell you now. That’s flat.”
“A day or two is ample time for a criminal to get away.”
“Maybe; but I don’t think you need worry about that. You’ve given him enough time to get away if he wants to. In any case, we are not going to tell you. I’m sorry, but—”
“I warn you that you are conspiring to defeat the ends of justice.”
“Sorry, and all that. Another time, inspector, we shall look forward to an interesting talk. But for the present—Good morning.”
The inspector took the hint, and left the room in a very bad temper. His parting shot was that he must report their conduct to his official superior.
“What on earth are we to do now?” said Joan.
“Go and see Carter Woodman at once, I think. When we’ve done that, we shall know better how to act.”
“But suppose he runs away when he hears our story—flies the country, I mean.”
“Wouldn’t that be the best way out? I don’t want to see him hanged any more than you do.”
“As the inspector said, we run some risk ourselves that way; but the worst of it is that the whole story is bound to come out.”
“I don’t see how it can be kept secret in any case—or rather, I only see one possible way.”
“What’s that?”
“Wait till we’ve been to Woodman. I want to see if he will be man enough to take it.”
“I don’t know what you mean. But I suppose we had better see Woodman.”
“Yes, and there’s no time to lose, if the inspector is on the trail.”
Joan and Ellery took a taxi, and ordered the driver to drive to Woodman’s office. But they underestimated the inspector’s promptness in action. They did not know that behind them followed another taxi, containing Inspector Blaikie and two plainclothes detectives.
XXXV
An Order for Bulbs
Superintendent Wilson’s examination of his find took him some little time. The bag was of ordinary stout canvas, most unlikely to be capable of identification. The small-shot also was of a kind which can be purchased at any gunsmith’s and at most ironmongers. To trace the criminal by means of either of these clues seemed virtually impossible. But this was not the end of the matter. Taking the shot, the superintendent carefully sifted it, and by-and-by he had separated from the pile of shot quite a number of other minute objects which had lain among it. There were several small pieces of cardboard, a few fragments of matches, some wisps of tobacco, a few balls of fluff, two pins, three small nails, and several tiny scraps of paper. Some or all of these might, of course, have got mixed up with the shot before ever it came into the murderer’s possession, and most of them were not at all likely in any case to afford a clue. But the chance was worth trying; and the inspector made a minute examination of them all. The scraps of paper alone seemed to hold out any hope of a clue. Two of them were blank: one was an indistinguishable fragment of a newspaper, apparently from the typography The Times: the other two, which fitted together, contained a few words written by hand. The words were unimportant, merely: “12 doz. hyacinths; 15 doz. tulips; 10 doz. sq.—” the last word being cut short by a tear. The paper was evidently part of an order, or of a memorandum for an order, for garden bulbs. But the writing—the superintendent compared it with a note which he had received from Woodman—the writing was very like. He could not say positively that they were the same. He must compare the scrap of paper with other specimens of Woodman’s hand. A second visit to Woodman’s office, in the guise of Mr. Porter, the unbusinesslike mortgage-maker, would probably afford the opportunity. Superintendent Wilson called a taxi, and drove away in the direction of Lincoln’s Inn.
The Fates, watching outside that very ordinary-looking office, had a more than usually amusing time that afternoon. As Joan and Ellery, after dismissing their taxi, entered the outer office, a second taxi drew up a few doors off, just out of view. Inspector Blaikie leapt out, and after him two plainclothes officers. The inspector rapidly posted his men. “There is no back way out of these premises,” he said, “so we have an easy job. I am going right in now, and I want you two to wait outside, and follow any of our people who come out. You know them all by sight. If Carter Woodman comes out, don’t lose sight of him on any account. But don’t detain him unless it is quite impossible to keep an eye on him. I shall probably keep my eye on the other two myself.” So saying, the inspector disappeared into the building. He had no clearly formed plan in his mind; but his suspicions had been thoroughly aroused, and he feared that Joan and Ellery had gone to warn Woodman to fly from the country.
A few minutes after the inspector had entered the office his two subordinates had the surprise of their lives. A third taxi drew up at the door, and out of it stepped no less a person that Superintendent Wilson. While they were debating whether to speak to him, his quick eye caught sight of them, and, rapidly walking a little way along the street in order to be out of view, he beckoned them to come.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
In a few words the men told him that Inspector Blaikie, and Joan and Ellery as well, were inside, and that they had received instructions
