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However," and Pendleton glanced humorously at his friend, "I don't suppose its beauty is what attracts you to-day. It is because certain pages are spread with the records of crime. I notice that this volume holds both 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' and the 'Mystery of Marie Roget." "Right," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "I admit I was browsing among the details of those two masterpieces when you came in.
Up to this time we have met with no success; but we hope to learn something of him at an early date." Ashton-Kirk laid the sheets down upon the table. "There follows a list of the names of the people who have supplied this information and their addresses," said he. "Burgess is very thorough in his work."
Seated in his big chair with the jar of Greek tobacco and sheaf of brown paper wrappers before him, Ashton-Kirk did not display any haste in removing the covering from the bayonet that had let the life out of the art dealer.
"I refused at first; but in view of what the newspapers contain this morning, I reconsidered it." Ashton-Kirk nodded. "If you had, come to me in the first place," said he, "you'd probably not have fallen into this mess, and you'd have saved yourself a great deal of suffering." He regarded the young man for a moment, and then went on. "Miss Vale, I suppose, has told you of her dealings with me."
"The affair that I'm looking up happened across the street at Hume's second floor of 478." "Oh!" Sams stared for a moment, then he took up his razor, turned his back and went on with his shaving. But there was expectancy in his attitude; and Ashton-Kirk smiled confidently. "While you were drawn up in Christie Place, waiting for a fare," he asked, "did you hear or see anything at 478?"
"Kirk," said Pendleton, earnestly, "until this matter is settled, don't hesitate to command me. I know that I'm not generally credited with much serious purpose; but even the lightweight feels things sometimes." Within half an hour, Ashton-Kirk, in a perfectly fitting, carefully pressed suit of gray, tan shoes and a light colored knock-about cap, led the way down to the car.
Why, Sagon actually had them in his hands." Ashton-Kirk drew a flat packet from his pocket. Opening it he showed that it contained nothing but blank paper. "This is what Sagon found behind the portrait," said he, with a smile. "The real papers I was very careful to remove two days ago. One moment that's the telephone."
Then he took from the investigator's hand the card upon which he had copied the message of Allan Morris. "Tobin Rangnow," he read. Then looking up he inquired with a wan smile. "More secret writing, eh? Or is it a man's name?" "There is a decided Irish flavor to Tobin," answered Ashton-Kirk. "But Rangnow is unfamiliar to me; and if it is a name at all, it is of Eastern European origin.
If its owner has been murdered, I don't wonder at it. Some outraged lover of such things has probably taken the law into his own hands." But Ashton-Kirk was paying little attention to the things that appalled Pendleton. "Look," said he. He indicated the walls. Here and there the plaster was broken as though some fastened object had been violently torn away.
And when we see that gentleman we shall be looking upon one in the confidence of Allan Morris." There was a long pause on the part of Pendleton. Ashton-Kirk rang for Stumph and directed him to turn the water into his bath, and get him out some fresh linen. It was after the man had gone that Pendleton spoke.
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