An Order for Bulbs
Superintendent Wilson’s examination of his find took him some little
time. The bag was of ordinary stout canvas, most unlikely to be
capable of identification. The small-shot also was of a kind which can
be purchased at any gunsmith’s and at most ironmongers. To trace the
criminal by means of either of these clues seemed virtually
impossible. But this was not the end of the matter. Taking the shot,
the superintendent carefully sifted it, and by-and-by he had separated
from the pile of shot quite a number of other minute objects which had
lain among it. There were several small pieces of cardboard, a few
fragments of matches, some wisps of tobacco, a few balls of fluff, two
pins, three small nails, and several tiny scraps of paper. Some or all
of these might, of course, have got mixed up with the shot before ever
it came into the murderer’s possession, and most of them were not at
all likely in any case to afford a clue. But the chance was worth
trying; and the inspector made a minute examination of them all. The
scraps of paper alone seemed to hold out any hope of a clue. Two of
them were blank: one was an indistinguishable fragment of a newspaper,
apparently from the typography _The Times_: the other two, which
fitted together, contained a few words written by hand. The words were
unimportant, merely: “12 doz. hyacinths; 15 doz. tulips; 10 doz.
sq.——” the last word being cut short by a tear. The paper was
evidently part of an order, or of a memorandum for an order, for
garden bulbs. But the writing—the superintendent compared it with a
note which he had received from Woodman—the writing was very like. He
could not say positively that they were the same. He must compare the
scrap of paper with other specimens of Woodman’s hand. A second visit
to Woodman’s office, in the guise of Mr. Porter, the unbusinesslike
mortgage-maker, would probably afford the opportunity. Superintendent
Wilson called a taxi, and drove away in the direction of Lincoln’s
Inn.
The Fates, watching outside that very ordinary-looking office, had a
more than usually amusing time that afternoon. As Joan and Ellery,
after dismissing their taxi, entered the outer office, a second taxi
drew up a few doors off, just out of view. Inspector Blaikie leapt
out, and after him two plain-clothes officers. The inspector rapidly
posted his men. “There is no back way out of these premises,” he said,
“so we have an easy job. I am going right in now, and I want you two
to wait outside, and follow any of our people who come out. You know
them all by sight. If Carter Woodman comes out, don’t lose sight of
him on any account. But don’t detain him unless it is quite impossible
to keep an eye on him. I shall probably keep my eye on the other two
myself.” So saying, the inspector disappeared into the building. He
had no clearly formed plan in his mind; but his suspicions had been
thoroughly aroused, and he feared that Joan and Ellery had gone to
warn Woodman to fly from the country.
A few minutes after the inspector had entered the office his two
subordinates had the surprise of their lives. A third taxi drew up at
the door, and out of it stepped no less a person that Superintendent
Wilson. While they were debating whether to speak to him, his quick
eye caught sight of them, and, rapidly walking a little way along the
street in order to be out of view, he beckoned them to come.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
In a few words the men told him that Inspector Blaikie, and Joan and
Ellery as well, were inside, and that they had received instructions
to remain on the watch, and to follow Woodman if he came out. The
superintendent thought rapidly. If he went in, it would be obviously
impossible to maintain his _alias_ of Mr. Porter, and he ran the risk
of interrupting a most important conversation. If, on the other hand,
he stayed outside, what blunder might not be committed in his absence?
Telling the men to remain on guard and follow the inspector’s
instruction, he entered the building.
He did not, however, go to the door of Woodman’s outer office.
Instead, he went along the corridor to where, as he remembered, the
private door from Woodman’s inner sanctum gave on the passage. There
he paused and listened. Some one was speaking within; but not a word
was audible through the stout door. There was no keyhole, and nothing
was to be seen either. The superintendent must fare further, to the
back of the building, if he sought to find out what was in progress in
Woodman’s room. There might be a window, looking on the room, through
which he could watch unobserved. He soon found a back-door, leading
into a small flagged yard at the rear of the building. It was locked;
but the key was in place. Unlocking it he slipped out into the yard,
and easily located the window of Woodman’s room. By standing on a
water-butt, he could see the three people—Joan, Ellery, and Carter
Woodman—within. But the window was closed, and he could hear nothing.
He remained at his post of vantage, watching.