“I got on well with him; but there were many who did not. A tough customer, hard in business and not ready in making friends.” “What terms was he on with his family—with Mr. George Brooklyn, for instance?” “Come now, inspector, this is hardly fair. I barely know George Brooklyn. I don’t think he and Prinsep liked each other; but there had been no quarrel so far as I know. I suppose you are thinking of the handkerchief.” “I have to think of these things.” While he was speaking the inspector opened his bag and took out the knife again. “A curious knife this,” he said. “Perhaps you can tell me whether it is a surgical instrument.” “Not so curious, when you know what it is. I do happen to know, though it has nothing to do with my profession. My son is a mechanical draughtsman, and he has several. Knives of this type are sold by most firms which supply architects’ and draughtsmen’s materials.” “H’m, what did you say was Mr. George Brooklyn’s profession?” “I believe he is an architect, and a very promising one.” “That, doctor, may make this knife a most valuable clue.” “I do not choose to consider it in that light. Clues are not my affair, I am glad to say.” “Well, they are my business, and I shall certainly have to make further inquiries about Mr. George Brooklyn.” “Oh, inquire away,” said the doctor. “But I fancy you will find George Brooklyn quite above suspicion.” The inspector’s eyes showed, just for an instant, a dangerous gleam. Then, “And is there anything else you can tell me?” he asked. “Nothing else, I think,” said the doctor. “I’m afraid you won’t find it much of a clue.” And with that and a few words more about the necessary inquest, the doctor took his leave. The inspector went back into the study. “Ask those two men who are waiting to step in here, will you?” he said to the sergeant. Morgan and Winter were duly brought in. “Sergeant, while I talk to these two men, I want you to make a thorough examination of the rest of the house. Leave nothing to chance. House and garden, I mean. And make me a sketch plan of the whole place while you’re about it.” “Now,” said the inspector, when the sergeant had withdrawn, “there are a number of questions I want to ask you. First, who, as far as you know, was the last person to see the deceased alive? Which of you was in charge of the front door last night?” “I was, sir,” replied Winter. “Well, then,” said the inspector, “I will begin with you. Morgan can go back to the other room for the present, and I will send for him when I want him. Now, when did you yourself last see Mr. Prinsep?” “At 10.30 last night, sir, when I went up to fetch his letters for the post.” “Did you notice anything unusual, or did he make any remark?” “He just gave me the letters. He didn’t say anything. He seemed in a bad temper, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.” “I see. There was nothing remarkable. Do you know if any one saw him after you?”