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What had the police discovered about him? His lips framed the reply. Everything. That was to say, all there was to find out. Obviously they had discovered his visit to Flint House on that night, or at least, that he was out in the storm during the time the murder was committed. His commonsense told him the reason for Barrant's reticence.
Again, Thalassa met him with answering look, but remained mute. "Thalassa" Barrant's voice remained persuasive, but to an ear attuned to shades, there was a note of menace underlying its softness "you know there was somebody else here that night." "Somebody? Who?" "Your master's daughter Miss Sisily Turold." Barrant brought it out sharply and angrily. Thalassa turned a cold glance on him.
It seemed to provide the key of the greater problem of Charles Turold's actions on that night. He had endeavoured to shield Sisily by altering the hands of the clock. The rest, for the present, must remain mere conjecture. One more question he essayed "Can you tell me where Miss Turold is to be found?" "I know, but I am not going to tell you." Barrant's eye rested on Charles.
It was true that in that time he had found traces of the girl which he believed would lead to her early arrest, but the letter, with its implication that the dead man was aware of his impending doom, was a highly significant clue, and strengthened Barrant's original belief that the real mystery of Robert Turold's death lay much deeper than the plausible surface of events indicated.
It remained stubbornly in Barrant's perspective, an unexplained factor which could be neither overlooked nor ignored. These thoughts ran through his mind as Mr. Brimsdown talked of his dead client. At the same time, the detective's attitude towards the lawyer underwent a considerable change.
"I heard you," she mumbled. "I saw you go upstairs. Mr. Thalassa was out, and I was afraid to go to the door. I've been playing patience, and it won't come out." She showed her apron full of small cards. She placed them on the table, and arranged them in rows. A new idea came into Barrant's mind as he looked at her.
Evidently the forerunner of the devilish alarum clock. "Early clockmakers Old English monks as Clockmakers." The pages flowed rapidly through Barrant's fingers. "Introduction of Minute Hand Marks Period of Clocks Showing Tides Longfaced Clocks." Ah, here it was at last "Hood Clocks."
As he covered the space which intervened between him and Barrant waiting at the gate, he decided that the moment had come to tell all he knew. "I know now that it couldn't have been much after half-past eight," he said in reply to Barrant's question. "Did you see Miss Turold there?" "I was coming to that.
Thalassa laughed at him, but undoubtedly Remington was out there, waiting for his opportunity, which he took as soon as he saw Thalassa leave the house. If I had not followed Thalassa and Miss Turold I might have seen him." "It's rather a pity you didn't." Barrant's tone was not free from irony. "For then you might have secured the proof which at present the story lacks."
Was it the attitude of a man who had committed suicide? Was it conceivable that Robert Turold would break off in the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a word, and shoot himself? It seemed a strange thing to do, but Barrant's experience told him that there were no safe deductions where suicides were concerned. They acted with the utmost precipitation or the utmost deliberation.
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