IN the entrance hall of the Langham Freyberger drew a long, black, poisonous-looking cheroot from his pocket and lit it.
Then he buttoned his overcoat and prepared to depart. He felt jubilant. The whole of the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into their places under the influence of his intellect, and now this new sidelight had pointed at the possible road to the absolute and final move, which would allow him to place his hand upon the creator of the puzzle, and say: “You are mine.”
He was just going down the steps when a voice from behind said, “Excuse me.”
He turned and saw Hellier.
“I would like a moment’s conversation with you,” said the barrister.
“Certainly, certainly,” said the other, in a not too amiable voice. “What can I do for you?”
“If you will allow me to walk a few hundred yards with you, I will explain myself. Please don’t think I want to interfere in this case, but I have sworn to give all the help in my power, and I think I may be able to make a suggestion to you that may be useful.”
“Humph.”
“I have made a special study of forensic medicine and criminology, and this has occurred to me.
“I will tell you what I think in a few words. This Müller accomplished a deeply reasoned out and intricate crime in Paris eight years ago. Well, having done that, his reason withdrew herself, exhausted possibly, but the lust for killing excited by the crime, remained and grew and had to be satisfied. He strangled three people.
“We know of lots of cases where a lunatic has a grudge against the whole female or male sex, and kills for the pleasure of killing. It is rarer for a man of this description to have a grudge against the whole of humanity and to murder indiscriminately, but it occurs.
“We find these people perfectly sane in other ways; they are just tigers let loose when their reason becomes weakened.
“So we have Müller, a man of profound intellect, suddenly, under the thirst of blood, turned into a killing machine. He kills three people, no more, for the fit passes. He is gorged for years, til............