tenant of a flat on the top story, had not been seen for some days. Ringing at Mr. Rand's door had produced no reply.
"Well, we do seem to be getting a bit warmer," said Superintendent Bell. And his subordinate in charge of the inquiries at the flats beamed and rubbed his hands, and remarked that Rand seemed to have been a mysterious chap—only had his flat a few weeks, not used it regularly, not by any means; no visitors to speak of, civil but distant. "That sounds all right," said Bell, and looked at Reggie.
"What was he like?" said Reggie.
"Middle size to biggish, wore glasses, well dressed, brown hair, which he wore rather long, they say," the inspector reeled off glibly.
"That's put the lid on," said Bell. "Won't do for the corpse. Warren. Not a bit like it. Well, sir, where are we now?" He turned to Reggie.
"You will go so fast," Reggie complained, and sat down. "I'm pantin' after you in vain. What's the primary hypothesis, Bell?"
"Sir?"
"Do we assume the corpse is Rand, or that Rand chucked the corpse out of window?"
"Ah, there's that," said the inspector eagerly. "We hadn't worked on that."
"We haven't worked on anything, if you ask
