Marigold mustered Desmond in one swift, comprehensive look.
"I won't give you my hand, Major," the detective said, looking
down at Desmond's proffered one, "for I'm in a filthy mess and no
error. But won't you come in, sir?" he said to the Chief and led
the way across the mosaic tile pathway to the front door which
stood open.
"I don't think this is anything in your line, sir," said Mr.
Marigold to the Chief as the three men entered the house, "it's
nothing but just a common burglary. The old man evidently heard a
noise and coming down, surprised the burglar who lost his head
and killed him. The only novel thing about the whole case is that
the old party was shot with a pistol and not bludgeoned, as is
usually the case in affairs of this kind. And I shouldn't have
thought that the man who did it was the sort that carries a
gun..."
"Then you know who did it?" asked the Chief quietly.
"I think I can safely say I do, sir," said Mr. Marigold with the
reluctant air of one who seldom admits anything to be a fact, "I
think I can go as far as that! And we've got our man under lock
and key!"
"That's a smart piece of work, Marigold," said the Chief.
"No, sir," replied the other, "you could hardly call it that. He
just walked into the arms of a constable over there near
Goodmayes Station with the swag on him.
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