Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/41

 last night, before he closed for the night,” remarked Sergeant Connolly.

“I guess I was,” Val nodded. “Tell me, how⸺” he looked his question.

The plain clothes man told him briefly all that was known about the matter, which was not much. When Sam Peters, Masterson’s clerk and assistant opened the store this morning he found that the door was not locked, as usual. Upon entering, he found the body of poor old Masterson sprawled across his desk, his head crushed in, as by some heavy, blunt instrument. That was all, except that in his hand was clutched, so tightly that it was still there and could not readily be removed, a strap such as children use to keep their school books together. Did Mr. Morley happen to remember such a strap.

Mr. Morley did. He remembered instantly. There was the girl, of course, and the books she had brought. Two bundles—each one tied with such a strap.

He looked at his questioner speculatively.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “There was a lady here last night—brought in some books bound in such a strap—two bundles, to be exact. I bought one of the bundles ‘as is’ from Masterson, and he kept the other.”

“Exactly,” nodded the sergeant. He knew all this, of course, from Peters. “And the books you bought—was there some clue as to the identity of the owner?” Val shook his head promptly. “No, there was not,” he stated emphatically.

“You won’t mind if we look them over?” suggested the sergeant.

“If you can locate them, why⸺”

“How do you mean?” asked the plainclothes man, politely.