Morley seemed thunderstruck and was profuse in his apologies. “I apologise, gentlemen. But business is business. You understand—I am sure. Yes—I read of the case. The local papers were full of it. Very dreadful. Very shocking. But why have you come to see me—I don’t understand——?” He spread out his hands after the manner of his ancient race—a mute but expressive invitation for explanation. For the moment Bannister was distinctly puzzled. He had met Hebraic cleverness before during the course of his distinguished career—many times in fact, and he knew that it always demanded the craftiest of countering. “I understand, Mr. Morley, that on the afternoon in question—to be precise on the fifth of July—that was the day of the murder—you had an appointment with your dentist, Mr. Branston of Coolwater Avenue at half-past two in the afternoon. You were supposed to call for a set of artificial teeth. A few minutes before that time Miss Delaney was murdered. Now, Mr. Morley—did you or did you not keep that appointment?” Jacob Morley raised his hands eloquently. “I did not, Mr. Inspector. I did not! I was prevented by extreme pressure of business. Two of my clerks were away that afternoon, as a matter of fact. One was ill—the other was attending a wedding and I had given him permission to be absent. I did not go to Mr. Branston’s. I had to postpone the appointment. I swear it. Ask Mr. Branston himself, if you doubt my word—he will confirm what I am telling you?” “Unfortunately Mr. Branston can’t,” replied Bannister rather coldly. “All he can say is that he didn’t see you there, which you will admit isn’t quite the same thing. There was so much confusion, consequent upon the discovery of the murder that he forgot all about the appointment that you had made with him and didn’t remember it till late that same evening. Which hardly corroborates your story, Mr. Morley.” “It is in my favour,” cried Morley. “It is on my side. It is not against me.” He stopped to see the effect of his assertions. “Stop a minute,” he cried, “I can prove what I say. I will show you. I went to him on the following Saturday afternoon—it was my Sabbath—I had the time—he fixed me up with my teeth then—these same teeth that I am wearing now.” He favoured Bannister with a tooth-paste smile, apparently as a guarantee of the truth of his statement. But the Inspector shook his head. “The fact that you went on Saturday doesn’t prove that you didn’t go on the afternoon of the murder,” he pronounced relentlessly. “You must see that.” Morley became crestfallen. “It is ridiculous to suppose that I had anything——” He stopped short and glanced furtively at Bannister. “Shall I finish the sentence for you?” demanded the latter. Morley wagged his head very slowly. Then he reacquired a touch of lost dignity. “I did _not_ keep the appointment on the afternoon of the murder,” he repeated slowly, and almost with resignation, “that is all I have to say.”