"That will make it all the worse for us," grumbled the day inspector. "The next thing the papers will do will be to start a Scotland Yard of their own. The fact is, the police haven't got power enough; we daren't move without proof positive. It's all very well to talk of the liberty of the subject, but it's my opinion the subject's got more liberty than it has a right to have. I'll give you an instance. I know a man who is as mad as mad can be--a dangerous chap, with a bloodthirsty eye, carries knives, and looks at you as if he'd like to murder you. But we daren't touch him. Why? Because nobody charges him. When he sticks a knife into somebody we can lay our hands on him, but not till then; so we've got to wait till mischiefs done. Then they'll prove him mad, and he'll be made comfortable for life. There's this affair; the public will be down on us for not being the first to make the discovery. _We_ can't move, but a newspaper man can. It's like taking the bread out of our mouths." Inspector Robson made no comment, but offered advice. "If I were in your place I should send three or four more constables to Catchpole Square. Deadman's Court is a narrow thoroughfare, and there'll be a rush of people to stare at the house. There should be a guard back and front. I'm going there now to have a look round." "I'll send the men after you," said the day inspector, "instanter." Off they hurried to Catchpole Square, where they found that a great many sight-seers had already gathered, of whom only a few at a time were allowed to enter to stare up at the windows of Samuel Boyd's house, a constable being stationed at the entrance of Deadman's Court to guard the passage. Inspector Robson asked this officer where the other constable was. "Gone to the station, sir, for further instructions," replied the constable, whose name was Filey. "Who is it?" "Simmons, sir. We was detailed together." "Have you been in the house?" "Yes, sir." "How did you get in?" "Over the wall, at the back. We borrowed a ladder, and Simmons mounted and got over, while I kept watch outside." "What did he find?" "The body, sir, just as the paper describes." "Did you get into the house the same way as Simmons?" "No, sir. He found the key of the street door hanging on a cord in Mr. Boyd's bedroom, and he came out that way and let me in." At this point four constables from the station appeared on the scene, Applebee among them. "Who has the key of the street door?" "I have, sir." "Give it to me. I knew Mr. Boyd by sight, and so did you, Applebee." "Could pick him out of a thousand, sir." "And you, Dick, were intimately acquainted with him. We'll go in and see the body. By the way, Filey, was the street door chained and bolted when Simmons unlocked it?" "I never asked him. Here he is, sir; he can answer for himself." Constable Simmons joined the group, and Inspector Robson repeated the question. "Neither locked _nor_ bolted, sir," he replied.