THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
to say good-night—well, he wouldn't be able to go on with the letter until close upon ten o'clock."
"And the telephone call?"
"Parker sent that all right—perhaps before he thought of the locked door and open window. Then he changed his mind—or got in a panic—and decided to deny all knowledge of it. That was it, depend upon it."
"Ye-es," I said rather doubtfully.
"Anyway, we can find out the truth about the telephone call from the exchange. If it was put through from here, I don't see how any one else but Parker could have sent it. Depend upon it, he's our man. But keep it dark—we don't want to alarm him just yet, till we've got all the evidence. I'll see to it he doesn't give us the slip. To all appearances we'll be concentrating on your mysterious stranger."
He rose from where he had been sitting astride the chair belonging to the desk, and crossed over to the still form in the arm-chair.
"The weapon ought to give us a clew," he remarked, looking up. "It's something quite unique—a curio, I should think, by the look of it."
He bent down, surveying the handle attentively, and I heard him give a grunt of satisfaction. Then, very gingerly, he pressed his hands down below the hilt and drew the blade out from the wound. Still carrying it so as not to touch the handle, he placed it in a wide china mug which adorned the mantelpiece.
"Yes," he said, nodding at it. "Quite a work of art. There can't be many of them about."
[68]
