THIRD EPISODE. CASE OF THE CRUSADER’S AX I I have heard people speak of Moris Klaw’s failures. So far as my information bears me, he never experienced any. “What,” I have been asked, “of the Cresping murder case? He certainly failed there.” Respecting this question of his failure or success in the sensational case which first acquainted the entire country with the existence of Crespie Hall, and that brought the old-world village of Cresping into such unwonted prominence, I shall now invite your opinion. The investigation--the crime having baffled the local men--ultimately was placed in the hands of Detective-Inspector Grimsby; and through Grimsby I was brought into close touch with the matter. I had met Grimsby during the course of the mysterious happenings at the Menzies Museum, and at that time I also had made the acquaintance of Moris Klaw. Thus, as I sat over my breakfast one morning reading an account of the Cresping murder case, I was no more than moderately surprised to see Inspector Grimsby walk into my rooms. He declined my offer of a really good Egyptian cigarette. “Thanks all the same,” he said; “but there’s only one smoke I can think on.” With that he lighted one of the cheroots of which he smoked an incredible quantity, and got up from his chair, restlessly. “I’ve just run up from Cresping by the early train,” he began, abruptly. “You’ve heard all about the murder, of course?” I pointed to my newspaper, conspicuous upon the front page of which was: “THE MURDER AT CRESPIE HALL” “Ah, yes,” he said, absently. “Well, I’ve been sent down and, to tell you the white and unsullied truth, I’m in a knot!” I passed him a cup of coffee. “What are the difficulties?” I asked. “There’s only one,” he rapped back: “who did it!” “It looks to me a very clear case against Ryder, the ex-butler.” “So it did to me,” he agreed, “until I got down there! I’d got a warrant in my pocket all ready. Then I began to have doubts!” “What do you propose to do?” Grimsby hesitated. “Well,” he replied, “it wouldn’t do any good to make a mistake in a murder case; so what I should _like_ to do would be to get another opinion--not official, of course!” I glanced across at him. “Mr. Moris Klaw?” He nodded. “Exactly!” “You’ve changed your opinion respecting him?” “Mr. Searles, his investigation of the Menzies Museum outrages completely stood me on my head! I’m not joking. I’d always thought him a crank, and in some ways I think so still; but at seeing through a brick wall I’d put all I’ve got on Moris Klaw any day!” “But surely you are wasting time by coming to me?” “No, I’m not,” said Grimsby, confidently. “Moris Klaw, for all his retiring habits, is not a man that wants his light hidden under a bushel! He knows that you are collecting material about his methods, and he’s more likely to move for you than for me.”