I really don't think the book's worth bothering about, but I suppose my word doesn't go very far."

    "Was anybody here besides Stalleti?" She showed him a list of four names. "Except Mr Stalletti, I don't think anybody is under suspicion. As a matter of fact, the other three people were severely historical, and biology wouldn't interest them in the slightest degree. It could not have happened if I had been here, because I'm naturally rather observant."

    She stopped suddenly and looked at the desk. The book that had been lying there a few seconds before had disappeared. "Did you take it?" she asked.

    "Did you see me take it?" he challenged.

    "I certainly didn't. I could have sworn it was there a second ago.

    He took it from under his coat and handed it to her. "I like observant people," he said.

    "But how did you do it?" She was mystified. "I had my hand on the book and I only took my eyes off for a second."

    "One of these days I'll come along and teach you," he said with portentous gravity, and was in the street before he remembered that clever as he was, he had not succeeded in learning the name of this very capable young lady.

    Sybil Lansdown walked to the window which commanded a view of the square and watched him till he was out of sight, a half smile on her lips and the light of triumph in her eyes. Her first inclination was to dislike him intensely; she hated self-satisfied men. And yet he wasn't exactly that. She wondered if she would ever meet him again—there were so few amusing people in the world, and she felt that—she took up the card—Sub-Inspector Richard Martin might be very amusing indeed.

 

 

CHAPTER 3

 

 

    DICK WAS piqued to the extent of wishing to renew the encounter, and there was only one excuse for that. He went to the garage near his flat, took out his dingy Buick and drove down to Gallows Hill. It was not an easy quest, because Gallows Hill is not marked on the map and only had a local significance; and it was not until he was on the edge of Selford Manor that he learnt from a road-mender that the cottage was on the main road and that he had come about ten miles out of his way.

    It was late in the afternoon when he drew abreast of the broken wall and hanging gate behind which was the habitation of Dr Stalletti. The weed-grown drive turned abruptly to reveal a mean-looking house, which he thought was glorified by the name of cottage. So many of his friends had 'cottages' which were mansions, and 'little places' which were very little indeed, when he had expected to find a more lordly dwelling.

    There was no bell, and he knocked at the weather-stained door for five minutes before he had an answer. And then he heard a shuffling of feet on bare boards, the clang of a chain being removed, and the door opened a few inches.

    Accustomed as he was to unusual spectacles, he gaped at the man who was revealed in the space between door and lintel. A long, yellow face, deeply lined and criss-crossed with innumerable lines till it looked like an ancient yellow apple; a black beard that half-covered its owner's waistcoat; a skull-cap; a pair of black, malignant eyes blinking at these were his first impressions. "Dr Stalletti?" he asked.

    "That is my name." The voice was harsh, with just a suggestion of a foreign accent. "Did you wish to speak with me? Yes? That is extraordinary. I do not receive visitors."

    He seemed in some hesitation as to what he should do, and then he turned his head and spoke to somebody over his shoulder, and in doing so revealed to the detective a young, rosy, and round-faced man, very newly and smartly dressed. At the sight of Dick the man stepped back quickly out of sight.

    "Good-morning, Thomas," said Dick Martin politely. "This is an unexpected pleasure." The bearded man growled something and opened the door wide.

    Tommy Cawler was indeed a sight for sore eyes. Dick Martin had seen him in many circumstances, but never so beautifully and perfectly arrayed. His linen was speckless; his clothes were the product of a West End tailor.

    "Good-morning, Mr Martin." Tommy was in no sense abashed, "I just happened to call round to see my old friend Stalletti."

    Dick gazed at him admiringly. "You simply ooze prosperity! What is the game now, Tommy?"

    Tommy closed his eyes, a picture of patience and resignation.

    "I've got a good job now, Mr Martin—straight as a die! No more trouble for me, thank you. Well, I'll be saying goodbye, doctor."

    He shook hands a little too vigorously with the bearded man and stepped past him and down the steps.

    "Wait a moment, Tommy. I'd like to have a few words with you. Can you spare me a moment whilst I see Dr Stalletti?"

    The man hesitated, shot a furtive glance at the bearded figure in the doorway.

    "All right," he said ungraciously. "But don't be long, I've got an engagement.