There was a knock at the door.
“C’min,” called Brazer.
A man entered, dad in a bathrobe.
“Pardon, sir, I heard voices and the conversation over the telephone. I thought perhaps, sir, you had found the diamonds.”
Hargrave muttered an aside to Sidney Zoom.
“Madison, the butler.”
Brazer fastened stem eyes upon the man.
“Madison, did you ever know there was a secret hiding place under the bedroom floor?” he asked.
The butler stared at the opened oblong of space and let his jaw sag.
“Good heavens, sir. No, indeed, sir!”
Sidney Zoom flung a question at the man.
“How long you been with Mr. Goldfinch?”
“About a year and a half, sir.”
“Before that?” asked Sidney Zoom.
“I was in Australia, sir.”
Sidney Zoom turned to Hargrave.
“Let me see the latents you developed, please.”
The young detective swung on his heel, motioned toward the outer room.
“New knob on the door. I took latents from the knob that was on there. I took latents from the desk, from half a dozen other places where the man who had committed the murder might have searched for diamonds.”
Sidney Zoom studied the spiral of smoke from the end of his cigarette.
“Madison, have you noticed any strangers about the place?”
Brazer snorted. Madison shifted uneasily.
“He’s been asked that question at least a dozen times,” said Hargrave.
Sidney Zoom remained unperturbed.
“This,” he observed, “will make the thirteenth, then.”
The butler squirmed inside his bathrobe.
“No, sir,” he said. Then, suddenly, he started.
“The book peddler!” he exclaimed.
“Who?” asked Hargrave.
“I had forgotten when I told you before. He came here with a set of books. Mr. Goldfinch seemed much interested. The peddler came up here to the bedroom. And I remember he was talking with Mrs. Barker, the housekeeper, when I came into the corridor. They seemed to be quite well acquainted. They were whispering, sir.
“And I thought it was strange at the time, sir, and went so far as to mention the matter to the housekeeper, sir. She told me that they had a secret arrangement by which she was to share in the commission in the event a sale was made.
“The book agent was back here three times after that, sir. The last time was this afternoon. But I don’t think he saw Mr. Goldfinch, sir, not this afternoon. I know he was talking with Mrs. Barker. Of course, sir, you will understand that us servants sometimes have our little commissions, sir, so I thought nothing of the matter.”
Brazer grunted.
“This the first time you’ve told any one about that guy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why,” asked Jack Hargrave, “did you not say anything about it before?”
“Because it slipped my mind, sirs.”
Brazer cleared his throat.
“What sort of a looking chap was this book agent?”
“Five feet nine, a hundred and eighty-five pounds, about forty-one or two years of age, dressed in a pin-striped suit. He had gray eyes, and a funny way of talking out of one side of his mouth, sir. He had a funny habit of reaching up with his right hand and rubbing the lobe of his right ear, I remember that well, sir.”
Brazer whistled. “Whew,” he said, “that’s the description of Shorty Relavan. I remember now the dope that came out on him. He had that habit of tugging at his ear when he was excited. Gosh, what a break! We’ve got the higher up located right at the start. And we’ve got the housekeeper. This ties her in so tight she won’t never get out. All the slick lawyers in the world won’t never pry her loose.”
Jack Hargrave glanced at Sidney Zoom. His eyes were glittering with concentration. Sidney Zoom’s lips twisted, just a trifle.
“Where else,” asked Sidney Zoom, “did you find the latents of this Relavan?”
“In the kitchen, on some of the knives. Not on the murder knife,” said Hargrave.
Brazer thrust out his chest.
“Well,” he said, “I’m in charge of the case. I’m goin’ to telephone headquarters and tell ’em of the new developments.”
Jack Hargrave grinned at Brazer.
“How much credit do I get?” he asked.
Brazer grunted. “I’m in charge.”
Hargrave nodded, wordlessly.
“I,” remarked Sidney Zoom, “would like to check up on this dodger of Robert Reelen. Do you suppose, Mr. Hargrave, you could drive me to headquarters and go over the records? And it might be well to take Mr. Madison, the butler, with us, so that we can have him check over the photographs of Shorty Relavan.”
The eyes of Sidney Zoom met with those of Jack Hargrave and locked there for one long moment.
Hargrave smiled. “Okay,” he said.
Phil Brazer scratched his head meditatively.
“Yeah. I’m in charge here. You guys get out and let me think this thing out. It’s red hot, all right.”
The butler dressed, in company with Zoom and Hargrave they drove to police headquarters in utter silence. Hargrave led them to the presence of Sergeant Huntington.
“Understand Brazer’s in charge of the Goldfinch case.”
“Yes. Orders came through. Sergeant Gilfillan was working on it. You were under him. They switched it to the special duty department and ordered Gilfillan to lay off.”
Hargrave nodded, “Is that notification official?”
Sergeant Huntington studied him long and earnestly.
“No,” he said, “it’s not official.”
Hargrave turned to the man at his side.
“Shorty Relavan, alias Arthur Madison, I arrest you for the murder of Jacob Goldfinch, and warn you that anything you may say will be used against you.”
Sidney Zoom heaved a sigh.
“I was hoping,” he said, “that you would do that.”
Chapter VI
The Butler’s Confession
The man who had acted as butler, his face the color of chalk, made two efforts to speak, but only succeeded in making weird throat noises.
Sergeant Huntington whistled softly, under his breath.
The butler cleared his throat.
“All right, you got me. I went after the sparklers. I got the job with Goldfinch hoping to find out where he kept ’em. I couldn’t get the lay so I asked the housekeeper if she knew. She told me to get a market for the stones and she’d produce ’em.
“I told her the name of a fence. Then she crossed me. She went ahead on her own, pulled the thing without my knowing anything about it, and the old man caught her. They had a struggle. She had taken a butcher knife from the kitchen, and she croaked him. She admitted it to me right after the crime.”
Sergeant Huntington looked at Jack Hargrave, a light of admiration in his eyes.
“Jack,” he said softly, “where did you leave Phil Brazer?”
Hargrave grinned. “Out at the house, waiting for something to turn up.”
“How did you know this was Relavan?”
“Simple. His finger-prints were all over the job. A man like Relavan wouldn’t have left any prints unless he couldn’t have helped himself. If he’d been going there once, or even twice or three times he’d have worn gloves.
“Then, again, when this man suddenly recollected how the book agent had pulled the lobe of his ear, I knew we had him. An old-timer like Relavan would have changed a habit like pulling at an ear as soon as he knew the police were using it as something to twig him by.”