Wedgwood left her, and for five minutes stood at the end of Porteous Road, wondering about Thomas Wraypoole's action. He was half-minded to go there and then to Wandsworth, to ask the oil and colour merchant for an explanation. But in the end he went back to Hunter Street, and there, closeted with the inspector who had gone to Miss Tandy's flat the night before, he found the man whose conduct was something of a puzzle to him.
Thomas Wraypoole, as Mrs. Creech had remarked, bore a close resemblance to his dead brother, in superficial appearance at any rate, thought Wedgwood. But Wedgwood had never seen John Wraypoole alive; he had only seen his dead face, which, considering his violent end, was singularly calm and composed when the detective bent over it. Thomas, however, was there before him, alive, very much alive, and Wedgwood was not impressed favourably by his looks. He had the eyes, lips, and smile of a sly and crafty man; his voice was as oily as his business.
"This is the murdered man's brother, Wedgwood," said the inspector. "Mr. Thomas Wraypoole. He's identified the body and he'll attend the opening of the inquest to-morrow. But he can't throw any light on the murder."
Thomas Wraypoole, who was seated in an
