seen through that knot-hole, but I couldn't see Erskine's face because it was turned sideways and downwards, as you remember. Also my torch had given out. Had I guessed whose corpse was in—but there . . . The match I lit I took from those vestas on the mantelpiece, and I dropped one into the wardrobe. I saw you salvage it, Chief.” “Did you wash your hands in the basin?” “Sure, and threw the water on to the balcony. It looked as though I had washed my boots in it. The top of that wardrobe would have made a first rate flower-bed. Well, to continue my tale of sin, curiosity made me have a look among the dead man's effects. I carry a pass key because of that damned Carter. I saw nothing interesting, and went for the manager, whom I found prowling about outside in the corridor. He seemed fairly knocked off his perch, but I sometimes wonder—However, he certainly would have had to have a nerve to put me into a room with a murdered man, if he knew anything about it. Yet—well, I don't quite know what to think; he and Carter may have had an understanding of some sort.” “Humph!” There was a long silence. “You hadn't been to the hotel earlier in the day, then?” “No.” “Did you step out on to the balcony at all?” “Not once, but I thought I heard someone moving outside the window while the manager and I were talking, just before you arrived, and I pulled up the blind. As I did so I think a window clicked shut beside me.” “Beside you? Which side?” “The Enterprise side. It sounded like the next room, but I couldn't swear to that.” “Humph! How did you come to buy those papers from the manager?” Mr. Beale thought a while. “He offered them to me. I said that though I didn't know Eames personally yet I knew that he was mixed up in a business swindle. Said I'd be mighty glad, had I known who he was, to've had a look through his papers. He sat still a moment, then went out and came back with that pocket-book and those papers you have there, done up in a neat little green and white packet. Didn't say how he got them, and I didn't ask. No, sir, I didn't ask!” “Humph! Well, Mr. Beale, you've only yourself to thank for your position. I shall leave two of my men to accompany you till we look into matters a little more, and you'll have to stay in England.” “Under arrest, am I?” “Not at all, sir. Under close supervision—at present. Of course, if you were to try to escape . . .” The Chief Inspector left the consequences to Mr. Beale's alert imagination; “but you'll find Watts here and Duncan know their work, and will cause you as little inconvenience as possible.” “I see. Well, I know when a game's lost,” the American retorted bitterly. “Say, you spoke of Carter's alibi just now. I suppose he's free, and all that?”