"I notice that most of the windows on this floor are barred. Was he particularly afraid of burglars, or of people breaking in?"
"Well—not exactly," was the hesitant reply. "But he did use to say as how the police were no good—begging your pardon, sir—and how a man in this city had to look out for himself if he didn't want to get held up."
Markham turned to Heath with a chuckle.
"You might make a special note of that for your files, Sergeant." Then to Mrs. Platz: "Do you know of anyone who had a grudge against Mr. Benson?"
"Not a soul, sir," the housekeeper answered emphatically. "He was a queer man in many ways, but everybody seemed to like him. He was all the time going to parties or giving parties. I just can't see why anybody'd want to kill him."
Markham looked over his notes again.
"I don't think there's anything else for the present. . . . How about it, Sergeant? Anything further you want to ask?"
Heath pondered a moment.
"No, I can't think of anything more just now. . . . But you, Mrs. Platz," he added, turning a cold glance on the woman, "will stay here in this house till you're given permission to leave. We'll want to question you later. But you're not to talk to anyone else—understand? Two of my men will be here for a while yet."
Vance, during the interview, had been jotting down something on the fly-leaf of a small pocket address-book, and as Heath was speaking, he tore out
