Elk 01 The Fellowship of the Frog by Edgar Wallace Page B

“do you happen to know where old Bennett was last night?”
    Elk’s tone was careless, but Dick Gordon felt the underlying significance of the question, and for a moment, realizing all that lay behind the question, all that it meant to the girl, who was dearer to him than he had guessed, his breath came more quickly.
    “He was out most of the night,” he said. “Miss Bennett told me that he went away on Friday and did not return until this morning at daybreak. Why?”
    Elk took a paper from his pocket, unfolded it slowly and adjusted his glasses.
    “I’ve had a man keeping tag of Bennett’s absences from home,” he said slowly. “It was easy, because the woman who goes every morning to clean his house has a wonderful memory. He has been away fifteen times this past year, and every time he has gone there’s been a first-class burglary committed somewhere!”
    Dick drew a long breath.
    “What are you suggesting?” he asked.
    “I’m suggesting,” replied Elk deliberately, “that if Bennett can’t account for his movements on Saturday night, I’m going to pull him in. Saul Morris I’ve never met, nor young Wal Cormon either—they were before I did big work. But if my idea is right, Saul Morris isn’t as dead as he ought to be. I’m going down to see Brother Bennett, and I think perhaps I’ll be doing a bit of resurrecting!”

    IX - THE MAN WHO WAS WRECKED

    John Bennett was working in his garden in the early morning when Elk called, and the inspector came straight to the point.
    “There was a burglary committed at the residence of Lord Farmley on Saturday night and Sunday morning. Probably between midnight and three o’clock. The safe was blown and important documents stolen. I’m asking you to account for your movements on Saturday night and Sunday morning.”
    Bennett looked the detective straight in the eyes.
    “I was on the London road—I walked from town. At two o’clock I was speaking with a policeman in Dorking. At midnight I was in Kingbridge, and again I spoke to a policeman. Both these men know me because I frequently walk to Dorking and Kingbridge. The man at Dorking is an amateur photographer like myself.”
    Elk considered.
    “I’ve a car here; suppose you come along and see these policemen?” he suggested, and to his surprise Bennett agreed at once.
    At Dorking they discovered their man; he was just going off duty.
    “Yes, Inspector, I remember Mr. Bennett speaking to me. We were discussing animal photography.”
    “You’re sure of the time?”
    “Absolutely. At two o’clock the patrol sergeant visits me, and he came up whilst we were talking.”
    The patrol sergeant, wakened from his morning sleep, confirmed this statement. The result of the Kingbridge inquiries produced the same results.
    Elk ordered the driver of his car to return to Horsham.
    “I’m not going to apologize to you, Bennett,” he said, “and you know enough about my work to appreciate my position.”
    “I’m not complaining,” said Bennett gruffly. “Duty is duty. But I’m entitled to know why you suspect me of all men in the world.”
    Elk tapped the window of the car and it stopped.
    “Walk along the road: I can talk better,” he said.
    They got out and went some distance without speaking.
    “Bennett, you’re under suspicion for two reasons. You’re a mystery man in the sense that nobody knows how you get a living. You haven’t an income of your own. You haven’t an occupation, and at odd intervals you disappear from home and nobody knows where you go. If you were a younger man I’d suspect a double life in the usual sense. But you’re not that kind. That is suspicious circumstance Number One. Here is Number Two. Every time you disappear there’s a big burglary somewhere. And I’ve an idea it’s a Frog steal. I’ll give you my theory. These Frogs are mostly dirt. There isn’t enough brain in the whole outfit to fill an average nut—I’m talking about the mass of ‘em. There are