Free Smallbone Deceased by Michael Gilbert Page A

kept open?” he said. “I’d like to start this in the ordinary routine way. I may find myself out of my depth. Quite likely I shall. If so—”
    â€œCertainly,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “Just say the word. By the way,” he added shrewdly, “what was it on that paper that made you change your mind?”
    Hazlerigg smiled.
    â€œI saw a name I recognized,” he said. “Here—in the list of recent arrivals at the office.”
    â€œHenry Winegarden Bohun,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “Never heard of him. What is he?”
    â€œPresumably he is a solicitor. He was a statistician. Before that, I believe, an actuary. And at one time almost a doctor.”
    â€œI don’t believe,” said the Assistant Commissioner, “that any normal man could find the time to train for all those professions.”
    â€œQuite so, sir,” said the chief inspector. “No normal man could. Bohun’s not normal. I’ll tell you how I know about him. He happened to be in the same battalion as Sergeant Pollock—you may remember him—”
    â€œThe man the Garret crowd killed. He worked with you, didn’t he?”
    â€œYes. Well, he was a friend of Bohun’s. They were in the same company in North Africa. He told me about Bohun’s peculiarity. If this is the same chap—and heaven knows it’s not a common name—then he might be useful. Particularly if we can be certain that he wasn’t involved—I’ll check on that first, of course.”
    â€œA friend in the enemy’s camp,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “It’s quite a good idea. Only for heaven’s sake don’t be like that mug in the detective story who confides all his best ideas to a friendly sort of character who turns out to be the murderer in Chapter Sixteen.”
    II
    Bohun was one of the first to leave the office that evening. In view of the fact that he had only joined the firm two days before, and had had no previous ascertainable connection with any member of it, if we except a very distant schoolboy acquaintanceship with Bob Horniman, he had occupied only a few minutes of Inspector Colley’s time.
    In common with all the other members of the staff he had had his fingerprints taken.
    This was typical of Inspector Colley, who was elderly, soured by lack of promotion, and extremely methodical. He knew the necessary moves to a hair, and made them all. His reports were models of conciseness and monuments to a staggering lack of imagination.
    However, he was a worker.
    In the short time at his disposal he had taken statements from everyone in the office, set his photographers in motion, commissioned a detailed drawing of Bob Horniman’s room and an outline sketch of the whole office, set his fingerprint men to work on the room, its walls, its door, its fittings, its approaches and its very varied contents; had taken check sets of prints from ail other members of the staff; had dispatched a man to Smallbone’s lodging to obtain prints from there, together with a check set from his landlady; had, in due course, sanctioned the removal of the body for pathological examination; and on the strength of the doctor’s preliminary report had divided the personnel into two lists. List One, those who had been with the firm less than a month: Mr. Bohun, Mr. Prince, Mr. Waugh (the cashier), Mrs. Porter and Mr. Flower. Mr. Flower, it might be explained, was none other than Charlie the office boy. He kept his surname a secret in the office, having suffered from it at school. List Two, the remainder.
    He had also contrived to make everyone on both lists feel thoroughly uncomfortable.
    â€œIt’s not what he says or does,” as Miss Cornel observed to Anne Mildmay; “it’s his general frightful air of ‘You’re all presumed guilty until you’re proved innocent.’”
    Bohun walked quietly