"Question Donna Inez," suggested Darrel. "She, if anyone, will explain the reason."
"Because if my theory is correct she may remember if her husband made enemies in Peru."
"Peru! Peru! You have that Peru on the brain. No," said Torry, "I may see Donna Inez later, but first I intend to search the rooms of Grent."
"Yes. Leighbourne is going to meet me there this afternoon, and we are going all through Grent's private papers in search of a possible clue."
"I wonder you did not search there before."
"There was no time," replied Torry tartly. "I have had a lot to do in getting evidence for the inquest. Now that is over, and the victims are buried, I can go forward."
"It is a week since the murder," said Frank, "and someone may have been in Grent's chambers to remove all incriminating papers."
"Well," said the detective, "there is something in that; but I doubt it, as the butler who keeps the rooms would not be likely to let anyone into them during the absence of his tenant. However, I'll see. Will you come?"
"No, thank you," replied Darrel. "I find my detective fever has passed away."
Torry uttered a prophecy. "On the first discovery of any note you'll get that fever again," said he.
The rooms which belonged to Jesse Grent were in Duke street, St. James's, and were very comfortably furnished, in a plain and unpretentious manner. Evidently the dead man had been simple in his tastes, and, notwithstanding his wealth, had refrained from indulging in luxury. These chambers were looked after by the landlord of the house, a retired butler, who appeared dignified enough to be a bishop, yet who was plainly afraid of the law as personified by Torry. He answered the many questions of the detective with anxious humility, but the information he gave was worth little.
Mr. Grent was a good tenant, he said, but capricious in his comings and goings which, in the butler's opinion, might be due to the fact that his house at Wraybridge was no very great distance from town. It was only when Mr. Grent was very late, that he remained all night at his chambers. On the day of the murder--it was a Saturday--Mr. Grent had notified that he was going to Italy, and would probably be away two weeks. It was at five o'clock that he had said this; then he had dined at his club, and evidently had gone to the theatre. The butler saw him when he returned at 10.30 in the evening. That was the last he saw of him, and he did not know if Mr. Grent had gone out that night.