The Clue of the Silver Key by Edgar Wallace

Author:Edgar Wallace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ManyBooks.net

Chapter Seventeen

MIKE HENNESSEY LOOKED very calm, almost majestic, in death; most easily recognizable. Surefoot Smith came out of the sinister little building and waited while the police sergeant turned the key.

Dick was waiting at the station. He had had enough of horrors for one night, and had not attempted to join in the identification.

'It's Mike all right,' said Surefoot. 'The murder was committed at ten-seventeen--there or thereabouts. The time is fixed by the big car that found the body, and a motor-cyclist who lives in this village reported to the police that he saw a small saloon car standing by the side of the road near where the body was found. I make out the two times as being between ten-fifteen and ten-twenty, and, allowing for the fact that the big car didn't overtake any other car on the Colnbrook by-pass, that puts the time at ten-seventeen. The murderer's car might have turned round and gone back. It could, of course, have gone right through the village of Colnbrook, avoiding the by-pass, and I should imagine that is what happened. And now, my friend,' he said seriously, 'you realize that this was the gentleman who called at your young lady's flat? His coat must have been covered with blood without his realizing the fact until, in searching the bathroom, he touched the wall with his sleeve. He took off his coat, washed his hands, and that's that.'

'But surely some garage man will be able to identify the car if there was so much blood lost? The interior must be a shambles.'

Surefoot nodded.

'Oh, yes, we'll find the car all right. There were three stolen last night that answer the description. I've just been through to the Yard and found that one has been discovered abandoned in Sussex Gardens.'

A swift police car took them back to Paddington, and Surefoot Smith's surmise was confirmed. The abandoned car was the one which the murderer had used. There was grisly evidence enough that the man had met his death in its dark interior--of other evidence there was none.

'We'll test the wheel for finger-prints, but Mr Wirth will have worn gloves.'

'That lets out Moran, doesn't it?' said Dick.

Surefoot smiled. 'Where is Moran? In Germany, we say--he's as likely to be in London. You may get to Germany in a few hours and get back in a shorter time. It may not have been Moran who left at all.'

'But why?'

Dick Allenby was bewildered, more than a little alarmed for Mary Lane's safety, and said as much. To his consternation, Surefoot agreed. 'I don't think she should stay in that flat. She may have other evidence, and now she's begun to theorise she might be dangerous to our friend.'

He accompanied Smith to the police station whither the car had been taken, and found the usual scene of impersonal activity. There were photographers, finger-print experts, car mechanics examining the speedometer. The owner of the car, who had been found and brought to the station, was a methodical man: he

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