which begins to look extremely interesting as we go on.' To Mr. Murch he said aloud: 'Well, I'll draw the bedroom later on. What about this?'
'They call it the library,' said the inspector. 'Manderson used to do his writing and that in here; passed most of the time he spent indoors here. Since he and his wife ceased to hit it off together, he had taken to spending his evenings alone, and when at this house he always spent 'em in here. He was last seen alive, as far as the servants are concerned, in this room.'
Trent rose and glanced again through the papers set out on the table. 'Business letters and documents, mostly,' said Mr. Murch. 'Reports, prospectuses, and that. A few letters on private matters; nothing in them that I can see. The American secretary–Bunner his name is, and a queerer card I never saw turned–he's been through this desk with me this morning. He had got it into his head that Manderson had been receiving threatening letters, and that the murder was the outcome of that. But there's no trace of any such thing; and we looked at every blessed paper. The only unusual things we found were some packets of banknotes to a
