After dinner I halted the sheriff in the hall, and we had a single moment of conversation. "Slatterly," I said, "I want you to give me some authority."
"You do, eh?" He paused, studying my face. "What do you want to do?"
"I want your permission--to go about this house and grounds where and when I want to--and no complications in case I am caught at it. Maybe even go into some of the private rooms and effects of the guests. I want to follow up some ideas that I have in mind."
"Any time the opportunity offers. I'm not going to do anything indiscreet. I won't get in your way. But I'm deeply interested in this thing, I've had scientific training, and I want to see if I can't do some good."
His eyes swept once from my shoes to my head. "From amateur detectives, as a rule--Good Lord deliver us," he said with quiet good humor. "But Killdare--I don't see why you shouldn't. Two heads are better than one--and I don't seem to be getting anywhere. Really, the more intelligent help we can get--from people we can co-operate with, of course--the better."
"Of course with reasonable limits. But ask my advice before you make any accusations--or do anything rash."
By previous arrangement Mrs. Gentry, the housekeeper, was waiting for me on the upper floor. There could be no better chance to search the guests' rooms. All of the men were on the lower floor, smoking their after-dinner cigars and talking in little groups in the lounging-room and the veranda. Of course Nealman was in his room, but even had he been absent, a decent sense of restraint would have kept me from his threshold. And of course Marten and Van Hope had established perfect alibis at the inquest.
We entered Fargo's room first. It was cluttered with his bags, his guns and rods, but the thing I was seeking did not reveal itself. I looked in the inner pockets of his coat, in the drawers of his desk, even in the waste-paper basket without result. Such personal documents as Fargo had with him were evidently on his person at that moment.
Nopp's room was next, but I was less than twenty seconds across his threshold. He had been writing a letter, it lay open on his desk, and I needed to glance but once at the script. If my theory was right Nopp could be permanently dropped from the list of suspects of Florey's murder.