Bradstreet leaned across, and Ellis opened it, holding it where he could see it too. It was typewritten, on a half sheet of coarse, bluish notepaper, unsigned, and bore neither address nor date.
“Dear Sir,
If you are still interested in the library of Mr. Baildon, it will be to your advantage to call as before.”
Ellis looked up.
“When did you get this, Mr. Nelder?”
“Monday.”
“You allowed some days to elapse?”
“Couldn’t get off at a minute’s notice.”
“You know the writer?”
“No.”
“But—on your own evidence, and the evidence of the letter here, this is not your first transaction of the kind? You told us that a number of Matt Baildon’s books had been through your hands?”
“So they have.”
“From whom did you buy them? From the writer of this letter?”
“How do I know who wrote the letter? You can see for yourself, it’s not signed. Not a thought-reader, am I?”
“All right. With whom did you do business on the previous occasions? Come, Mr. Nelder. You aren’t going to tell us that the books came to you of their own accord. They were not posted to you, but delivered personally. The letter makes that clear. Very well, then. Who delivered them?”
“I tell you, I don’t know.”
“Was it a man, or a woman?”
“A woman,” Nelder said sulkily.
“Young or old?”
“I don’t know. She was all muffled up. It was winter, I tell you, and dark. I didn’t see her face.”
“You met out of doors, then. Nelder, Nelder! was that well done?”
“I paid for the books. Paid a damned good price for them. What does it matter where it was?”
“A muffled woman, out of doors, in the dark. Are most of your purchases made under those conditions?”
“If people like play-acting, it’s no concern of mine. I paid for the books, and got ’em.”
“It never occurred to you to wonder whether old Matt gave the transaction his blessing, I suppose? In other words, whether you were receiving stolen goods?”
“Why the hell should I think that? It’s only chaps like you that go around thinking the worst of people.”
Ellis shot at long range.
“All the same, the books never appeared in your catalogue.”
Nelder licked his lips.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of the books I sell don’t go into the catalogue.”
“I can well believe that. Would you recognise the woman if you saw her again?”
“I tell you, I never saw her face.”
“There was no trick of voice or gesture?”
“She spoke all muffled, too.”
“Was she short or tall?”
“I don’t know. Sort of medium, I think. I didn’t notice.”
“In too much of a hurry to get away with the swag,” Ellis observed.
“Look here, you’ve got no right to talk like that. I tell you, I paid for the books, and paid a good price too, which is more than some would——”
“——for stolen property,” Ellis finished for him. “Quite. Well, well. A very nice story. Unsavoury, perhaps, but vivid, I can only see one gap in it.”
Nelder’s head jerked upwards belligerently.
“What’s that?”
“You can give no clear account of the person who sold you the books, because the transaction, or transactions, took place in winter, and it was dark. Correct?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“You did. You did indeed. But you forgot one interesting point.”
“Eh?”
“We are now in the middle of June. It wasn’t dark on Thursday, Nelder. Nor on Friday.”
The unhealthy face blanched. “What d’you mean?”
“The latest parcel, Nelder. The books you bought this time. You had every opportunity to see the other party. The light lasts long into the evening at this time of year. It’s warm, too. I even doubt if she was muffled up.”
The room was very silent. Nelder said nothing at all. His eyes flickered and half closed.
Ellis waited for a few seconds, then went on, in friendly conversational tone.
“A number of books are missing from Matt Baildon’s library. We know exactly which they are—titles, dates, all particulars. You have admitted to making previous purchases. You have also admitted that you were here in response to this letter. I think, on these facts, that we are entitled to ask you two questions. One, what have you done with the books? Two, who sold them to you?”
When Nelder spoke, his words came out singly, cautiously, like animals coming from their lair after an alarm.
“Who said I ’ad the books?”
“No one. We just inferred it.”
“Not the same thing as proving it, mister.”
Ellis shrugged.
“You will find them hard to dispose of.” He waited for a gleam in Nelder’s eye, but the lid veiled it. “Unless you have passed them on already. I think not, however. There are better buyers in London than in the West.”
“Prove that I’ve got ’em, before you start guessing what I’ve done with ’em.”
“Yes. Yes. We do things in our own good time.”
Nelder’s confidence was returning. His face creased stiffly into a leer.
“Another thing,” he said. “Supposin’—I don’t admit a word of it, mind you, from start to finish—but supposin’ it was the wife or daughter sold the books, or had ’em sold; now that the old boy’s dead, who did they steal ’em from?”
Ellis nodded four or five times.
“A pretty point. Provided, of course, the transaction took place after Matt’s death.”
“Supposin’ it didn’t—mind you, I’m not admitting——”
“Yes. Yes. We know.”
“Supposin’ there was a sale, and it was before ’e died: who’s goin’ to charge the bloke who bought the books?”
“You can leave all that to us.” Ellis got up. “Well, Mr. Nelder, it’s been a most instructive conversation. Thank you so much. We needn’t keep you any longer from the fresh air and the sunshine. That is, unless you have anything to ask, Bradder?”
“No.” Bradstreet stood up. He looked down on Nelder. “We shall want you for the inquest. I’ll let you know.”
“I can’t hang around all the week at your convenience,” Nelder exclaimed truculently.
“You may go where you like, so long as we know where you are, and you can get to West Nattering in time.”
“It’s damned inconvenient to a business man.”
“There are worse inconveniences,” Ellis drawled. “One of ’em’s on the moor, not so far from here. Take it easy, Nelder. You’re getting out of this very lightly, so far. Oh no, thank you. We keep the letter.”
They went out before Nelder could reply.
“Well, Bradder,” Ellis said comfortably, as they sought the shady side of the glaring street. “What do you make of that?”
“That poor soul,” Bradstreet sighed. “I suppose she’s been scraping for Joan that way for a while now.”
“How could she risk it, Bradder? Gilk says the old boy knew where every book was.”
“He’s been getting infirm these last three or four years. I doubt if he could come to the top shelves alone. He made Joan get the books for him.”
“Even then, there was always the chance that he’d ask for one of the missing books. She was taking a big risk, poor woman.”
“I don’t look on that as thieving in the ordinary way,” Bradstreet said. “The books were coming to them in the long run. She was only taking a little on account.”
“Bradder, Bradder! These are highly immoral sentiments from a pillar of the force.”
“Are they? I can’t help it.” Bradstreet’s face was placid.
“I thought I was the only thoroughly immoral man on this job. I’m surprised at you, all the same. You’ll be telling me in a minute you wouldn’t blame her if she scuppered the old So-and-So.”