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Grodman stood on the platform, grasping the back of his chair, a curious mocking Mephistophelian glitter about his eyes, his lips wreathed into a half smile. There was no hurry for him to get Denzil Cantercot arrested now. Wimp had made an egregious, a colossal blunder.
It is not to the point that in that little matter of the door Wimp was as hopelessly and incurably wrong as he has been in everything all along. The door was securely bolted. Still I confess that I should have seen that I had broken the bolt in forcing the door, even if it had been broken beforehand.
"Wimp says good night " it announced with metallic finality. He got up and stood staring at the thing for a moment, his face heavy with anger, the group in Wimperley's office vividly before him. He could see the cold features of Birch, sharpened by the tenseness of the hour into a visage bloodless and inflexible, with thin tight lips and narrow expressionless eyes.
In Grodman's eye there danced an amused scorn of Wimp; to the outsider his amusement appeared at the expense of the poet. Having wrought his rival up to the highest pitch, Grodman slyly and suddenly unstrung him. "How lucky for Denzil!" he said, still in the same naive, facetious Christmasy tone, "that he can prove an alibi in this Constant affair." "An alibi!" gasped Wimp. "Really?" "Oh, yes.
Arthur Constant, in cold blood, and with the most careful premeditation; premeditation so studied, as to leave the circumstances of the death an impenetrable mystery for weeks to all the world, though, fortunately, without altogether baffling the almost superhuman ingenuity of Mr. Edward Wimp, of the Scotland Yard Detective Department.
This coincided with Mrs. Wimp's own convictions, though Mr. Wimp could never be brought to see anything unsatisfactory or suspicious about the girl, not even though there were faults in spelling in the "character" with which her last mistress had supplied her. It was true that the puss had pricked up her ears when Denzil Cantercot's name was mentioned.
After that quotation from the letter to the poor fellow's fiancée there could be no more doubt but that it was murder. Mr. Wimp was convinced by it too, weren't you, Edward?" Edward coughed uneasily. It was a true statement, and therefore an indiscreet. Grodman would plume himself terribly. At this moment Wimp felt that Grodman had been right in remaining a bachelor.
"They say he always was a jabberer in the composing-room, and he has jabbered himself right out of it and into a pretty good thing. He didn't have much to say about the crimes of capital when he was set up to second the toast of 'Railton and Hockes' at the beanfeast." "Toast and butter, toast and butter," said Wimp, genially. "I shouldn't blame a man for serving the two together, Mr. Cantercot."
Never once since December 4th did this possibility occur to me, till Wimp with perverted ingenuity suggested it. If this is the case with a trained observer, one moreover fully conscious of this ineradicable tendency of the human mind, how must it be with an untrained observer?"
"Yes," flashed the plunging reply. "Wimp waiting your report defect in rails." Clark's brows wrinkled and he bent over the key. "Cannot send report till several chemical anal anal " "Yes analyses I get you are complete is that it." "Yes." Clark breathed a sigh of relief. His brow was wet. "When will that be Wimp asks." "Three days."
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