“No, no, no. I do not know it now. What is it to me? I am not wanting money. I am famous. I make my success.”
“Did you know of anyone else objecting to Miss Rook’s marriage with you?”
Florian laughed. “That, yes. Without doubt. Every other man who knew her. Oh, I am hated, be sure.”
“Very likely.” Lomas smiled. There was a tap at the door, and a detective handed Bell a note, which he passed to Lomas and Reggie. It announced that Lindsay had been brought to the house.
Florian had been watching with nervous curiosity. “What is that, then?” he broke out.
“What you have to think about is your own position,” Lomas told him. “Now then. You just said there were men who hated you. You drove away from this house with Miss Rook about ten o’clock to Bloomsbury. Soon afterwards Dr. Dodd was murdered in Bloomsbury. Was there any quarrel between you and Dr. Dodd?”
“I - I do not feel for anyone enough to quarrel. I am an artist. And Dodd - the good Dodd - -” Florian laughed. “He was no one, nothing, a respectable life that did not live at all.”
“Kind to him, aren’t you? “Lomas said sharply. “Dodd was murdered with the dagger which lolled Mrs. Rook. What do you say about that?”
Florian shook and his eyes dilated. “Is it so?” he gasped. “I say nothing, then. I know nothing. It is fate.”
“That’s all your explanation. Very well. Have you any objection to the police searching your studio for the dagger which came from here?”
Florian cried out something inarticulate, and then, with gestures of rage, “You would catch me in a trap!” he stormed. “That, I will not have it, you understand. I will not. You shall not come through my door. It is a treachery.”
“I advise you to think over that answer.” Lomas made a gesture of dismissal.
Bell rose and opened the door, and Florian plunged at it. “We don’t let him go, sir?” Bell whispered.
“Lord, no.” Lomas smiled, and Bell made haste downstairs.
“Faustine will get at him if she can,” Reggie said. “You’re allowin’ for that?”
Bell came back short of breath. “The woman’s got him, sir - waitin’ for him - taken him into her mother’s sitting - room.”
“Girl of nice feelin’, Faustine,” said Reggie. “You’ve put a man outside the door, Bell?”
“I have,” Bell said with gusto. “We ought to get something now. She’ll put him through it, that vixen. And what she’s going to say when she hears he told us we mustn’t search his studio ought to be worth something.”
“Yes. It could be,” Reggie murmured. “By the way, that search ought to be over. Any results?”
“I had a ‘phone message they couldn’t find a thing,” said Bell. “I told ‘em to look again.”
“Well, well.” Reggie smiled. “Case against our Florian not so good as you thought, what? His fury at his place bein’ searched not suspicious, but simply natural. He is simple. You don’t allow for it.”
“That fellow!” Lomas sneered.
“Oh, yes. A simple child. With a bit of genius. Poor beggar. What about your other hopeful search, in Lindsay’s rooms?”
“Nothing yet, sir. They had a bit of trouble getting in.”
“Let’s have Lindsay up now,” said Lomas, and Bell went to fetch him.
He came sauntering in, hands in pockets. “The joy of life is keeping other people waiting.” He gave them a sneer rather of superiority than malice. “Well, you’re one up on me. What is this important conference? An official interrogation or an appeal for my assistance as a good citizen?”
“Why make the distinction?” Lomas snapped.
“Just to clear your mind. I have noticed that the police are apt to confuse their purposes.”
“We’re investigating murder. Do you wish to help us or not?” said Lomas.
“Try to be definite.” Lindsay was supercilious. “What murder?”
