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Updated: May 5, 2025
My idea is to go in a semicircle right round the garden, starting at the garage by the edge of the wood, so as to see the library window and measure the distance at every possible point at which Kemp could have stood." "You're going to a lot of trouble for nothing, if your object is to try and prove that he couldn't have seen into the window," grunted Inspector Chippenfield, in a mystified voice.
Macauley Mansions had no lift, and Number 43, the scene of the events of Hill's confession, was on the top floor. Inspector Chippenfield and Rolfe mounted the stairs steadily, and finally found themselves standing on a neat cocoanut door-mat outside the door of No. 43. The door was closed. "Well, well," said the inspector, as he paused, panting, on the door-mat and rang the bell.
His heart bounded when he saw that it was a small torn piece of lace and muslin. He placed it in the palm of his left hand and examined it closely under the light of his torch. To him it looked to be part of a fashionable lady's dainty handkerchief. He was elated at his discovery and he wondered how Inspector Chippenfield had overlooked it. Then the explanation struck him.
"I wonder where that infernal ledge goes to?" said Inspector Chippenfield, vainly twisting his neck and protruding his body through the window to a dangerous extent to see round the corner of the building. "I daresay it leads to the water-pipe, and the scoundrel, knowing that, has been able to get round, shin down, and get clear away." "I'll soon find out," said Rolfe.
Her face was white and strained, and her big dark eyes followed Inspector Chippenfield, but she did not speak. The inspector tramped noisily into the little hall, leaving the door of the room wide open. Rolfe and the girl saw him fling open the door of another room a bedroom and stride into it. He came out again shortly, and went down the hall to the rear of the flat.
But the miscellaneous rubbish stored in the room offered no hiding-place for a man. Rolfe nevertheless made a conscientious search, shifting the lumber about and ferreting into dark corners, without result. Finally he crossed the room to look out of the window, which had been left open, no doubt by Inspector Chippenfield.
She removed them when the police had charge of the house, and almost from under the eyes of Inspector Chippenfield. It was a daring plan and well carried out." Miss Fewbanks heaved a sigh of relief on learning the fate of the letters. It had been her intention to endeavour to obtain them if they were in Crewe's possession, and destroy them.
He made a confession a true one this time. I took it down and I'll let you have a copy. There are a few interesting points on which it differs materially from the statement he made to the police when you and Chippenfield cornered him." "What are they?" asked Rolfe. "In the first place the burglary was his idea, and not Birchill's," replied Crewe.
"I mean the man you've been keeping with Sir Horace Fewbanks's money," said the inspector brutally. "I've been keeping nobody with Sir Horace Fewbanks's money," protested the girl feebly. "It's cruel of you to insult me." "That'll about do to go on with," said Inspector Chippenfield, with a sudden change of tone, rising to his feet as he spoke. "Rolfe, keep an eye on her while I search the flat."
But I knew I would be suspected," he added, in a tone of self-pity. "Oh, you did?" replied Inspector Chippenfield. "And why was that?" "Because of my past." "Where were you on the date of the murder?" "In the morning I came over here to look round as usual, and I found everything all right." "You did that every day while Sir Horace was away?" "Not every day, sir.
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