"No, not a chance. Mrs. North isn't interested in anyone except her husband. But I think the man she saw and the man Glass saw were one and the same. It's by no means conclusive, but we did find a pale grey felt hat amongst Carpenter's belongings."
"All right, we'll say they were the same. Now, we don't know what Carpenter went back for, having been shown out, but there might be scores of reasons, setting aside any violent ones. Suppose he saw young Neville in the study with his uncle, and decided it was no use waiting? Quite reasonable, isn't it? Well, he goes off. The fact that he hurried away doesn't prove a thing. He wasn't up to any good anyway, and he naturally wouldn't want to be questioned by a policeman. All this time Carpenter doesn't know Neville from Adam. But here's where we have the brainwave of the century, Chief! Do you remember young Neville getting his photo in one of the daily picture papers?"
"I do - as the Boots, and under the name of Samuel Crippen," said Hannasyde grimly.
"That wouldn't matter. Suppose Carpenter saw the paper? Stands to reason he'd be following the case fairly closely. He'd recognise Neville straight off. And if he'd seen him in evening dress on the night of the murder he'd know there was something phoney about that story of Neville's being employed as the Boots. My idea is that he saw his way to make a bit of easy money, and sneaked down to make a contact with Neville. No difficulty about that. Only Neville's too sharp to allow anyone to share a secret that would put a rope round his neck, and he proceeded to eliminate Carpenter double-quick. How's that?"
"It's perfectly plausible up to a point, Skipper. But it falls down as soon as it reaches the time of Carpenter's death, for reasons already stated."
"Then Carpenter was murdered by someone else altogether," said the Sergeant despairingly.
"Where's the data you collected about that murder?" Hannasyde asked suddenly. "Let me have a look at it."
The Sergeant handed him some typewritten notes. "Not that you'll be able to make much of it," he remarked pessimistically.
Hannasyde ran his eye down the notes. "Yes, I thought so. Landlady stated Carpenter was alive at 9.30. Dora Jenkins said that the man in evening dress passed by on the other side of the road just before the policeman appeared, coming from the other direction."
"Yes, and if you read on a bit further you'll see that her boy-friend said the policeman came by ages before the man in evening dress. Of the two, I'd sooner believe him. She was simply trying to spin a good tale."
"She was, but surely - yes, I thought so. Brown put the time he saw the policeman at about 9.40, and stated that as far as he could remember the man in evening dress passed a minute or two later. That seems to tally more or less with the girl's story. Did we ascertain from the Constable what time it was when he entered Barnsley Street?"
"No," admitted the Sergeant. "As he didn't see any man in evening dress, or notice anything wrong at No. 43, I didn't think that it was important."
"I wonder?" Hannasyde was frowning at the opposite wall.
"Got an idea, Chief?" the Sergeant asked, his interest reviving.
Hannasyde glanced at him. "No. But I think we'll find out just when the Constable did pass up the street."
The Sergeant said briefly: "Sorry, Chief!" and picked up the telephone-receiver.
"My own fault. I didn't see that it might be important either. It may not be. Can but try."
While the Sergeant waited to be connected with the Glassmere Road Police Station, Hannasyde sat reading the notes on both cases, his brows knit. The Sergeant, having exchanged a few words with the official on duty at the police station, lowered the receiver, and said: "Just come on duty, Super. Will you speak to him?"
"Yes, tell them to bring him to the phone," said Hannasyde absently.
The Sergeant relayed this message, and while Constable Mather was being summoned, sat watching his superior with a puzzled but alert expression on his face. A voice speaking in his ear distracted his attention. "Hullo! Is that Mather? Hold on! Detective-Superintendent Hannasyde wants a word with you. Here you are, Chief."
Hannasyde took the instrument from him. "Hullo! This is with reference to last night, Mather. I want you to clear up a point which seems to have been left in the air."
"Yes, sir," said PC Mather dutifully.
"Do you remember at what hour you reached Barnsley Street on your beat?"
There was a slight pause; then the Constable said rather anxiously: "I don't know to the minute, sir."
"No, never mind that. As near as possible, please."
"Well, sir, when I passed the post office in Glassmere Road the clock there said 9.10, so by my reckoning it would be just about 9.15 when I got to Barnsley Street."
"What?" Hannasyde said. "Did you say 9.15?"
"Yes, Sir. But I wouldn't want to mislead you. It might have been a minute or so more or less."
"Are you quite certain that it wasn't after 9.30?"
"Yes, Sir. Quite. It wouldn't take me all that time to get to Barnsley Street from the post office. There's another thing, too, sir. Brown - the man with the coffee-stall - hadn't taken up his pitch when I passed."
"But Brown stated when questioned that he had seen you shortly after he arrived at 9.30!"
"Said he saw me last night?" repeated Mather.
"Yes, quite definitely."
"Well, sir," said Mather, in a voice of slowly kindling suspicion, "I don't know what little game he thinks he's playing, but if he says he saw me last night he's made a mistake. If I may say what I think, sir -'
"Yes, go on!"
"Well, Sir, I suppose for a matter of six or seven days he has seen me, for I've been down Barnsley Street, sometimes at one time, and sometimes at another, each evening, but always after 9.30. Only, as it so happens, I took Barnsley Street and Letchley Gardens early last night. It seems to me Brown was making that up, sir, kind of banking on what he thought probably did happen. If I may say so."
"All right: thanks! That's all."
Hannasyde replaced the instrument on its rest, and turned to find the Sergeant regarding him with newly awakened interest.
"You needn't tell me, Super! I gathered it all right. Mather passed up the street at 9.15, and Brown never saw him at all. Well, well, well! Now we do look like getting somewhere, don't we? What you might call opening up a new avenue. Who is Mr. Brown, and what has he got to do with the case? Come to think of it, he did answer me remarkably pat. But what he's playing at - unless he killed Carpenter - I don't see."
"Alfred Carpenter," said Hannasyde, disregarding these remarks. "What's his address? I want the name of that travelling company Carpenter joined."
"Back on to Angela?" said the Sergeant, handing over Alfred Carpenter's deposition. "She wasn't one of the members of the company, if that's what you're thinking."