Proof of Guilt Read Online Free Page A

twenty yards in either direction from where the body had been discovered, but keen as his eyes were, sharp as the morning light was, he still could find no evidence to show that the victim had been dragged here. Or that such signs had been brushed away, in an attempt to point the police in a different direction.
    He was forced to agree with Belford, although it would have been more satisfying on general principles to find the man wrong. He smiled at himself. It would most certainly have made his task easier. Wherever the victim had died, it wasn’t here.
    Had this site been chosen at random? Or was it meant as a message to someone who lived on this street? For that matter, the killer could have got the address wrong.
    “You cover several streets on your rounds,” he said to the constable as he came to stand beside him again. “Have you seen anything, heard any gossip that might indicate someone else in this area was engaged in activities that could have resulted in a rather nasty warning?”
    “I was wondering that myself, sir, but I can’t think of anyone who isn’t respectable. There’s an artist or two, and one famous actor. But they live as quietly as anyone as far as I can tell.”
    Finally satisfied that he could do no more here, Rutledge left, asking Constable Meadows to see that statements were copied and sent along to the Yard.
    He was glad to be out of Chelsea, and drove directly to Galloway and Sons, a jeweler on Bond Street. As a young policeman, Rutledge had found the man who had broken into the shop one Saturday evening, and recovered most of the stolen items as well. Galloway had been in his debt ever since.
    He greeted Rutledge warmly, and when he had finished his business with the young couple already in the shop, he turned to the Inspector.
    “You’ve neglected us of late,” he said, smiling. “I should have thought by now you’d be purchasing a ring for a young lady.”
    “One day perhaps,” Rutledge answered. “Today I’m here on police business. Would you take a look at this watch and tell me what you can about it?”
    He passed the watch to Galloway, who studied it carefully before opening it.
    “Is this connected in any way with a crime?” the jeweler asked as he worked.
    “It would be helpful to learn the identity of the owner.”
    “To be sure.” After inspecting the back of the watch, Galloway finally turned to Rutledge. “I thought at first that this was a French timepiece. Well, of course it is, but it was sold in Lisbon. The jeweler left his mark just there, do you see? On the frame. At a guess, it was not a presentation piece—a coming of age or advancement, that sort of thing—but bought to use every day. Some slight signs of wear, but maintained beautifully. I’d put the date at perhaps 1890, 1895?”
    “Interesting,” Rutledge said. “Anything else?”
    “I’m afraid not. I do have a connection in Lisbon. Would you like me to make inquiries? Quietly, of course.”
    “Yes, that would be very helpful.”
    Galloway jotted down his observations and returned the timepiece to Rutledge.
    “Contact you through the Yard, as usual?”
    “Please, yes.”
    Rutledge walked back to his motorcar with his mind on the inquiry.
    A voice said, “I see you’ve no time for old friends.”
    He came back to the present to find former Chief Inspector Cummins standing in front of him. Smiling, he said, “Sorry! I was debating with myself whether this latest inquiry is a murder or an accident someone tried to cover up. What brings you to London?”
    “My daughter and my wife are looking at wedding gowns. I’ve been cast adrift and told not to return for at least an hour. It’s nearly up. I’m glad I ran into you. A pity about Bowles’s heart attack, but I daresay there were many who were surprised to learn he even had one. Myself among them. What do you think of the new man? Markham?”
    It occurred to Rutledge that if Cummins had been still at the Yard, he would have been in