when he told me about the notes, he might be
tempted--Oh! It was dreadful of me, I know, to think of it, but I knew
he doted upon me, I was afraid he might try and take one or two of them,
hoping they wouldn't be missed out of so great an amount. You see we'd
been in money difficulties and were still paying my college fees off
after all this time. So I went back to keep watch with him--and found
him dying--though how you _knew_--"

His voice trailed off into silence, and Cleek smiled kindly.

"By the identical shape of your hands, my boy. I never saw two pairs of
hands so much alike in all my life. And then your agitation made me risk
the guess.... What's that, Inspector? How was the murder committed, and
what did this little rattler have to do with it? Well, quite simple. The
snake was put in the safe with the notes, and a trail of aniseed--of
which snakes are very fond, you know--laid from there to the foot of old
Simmons. The safe door was left ajar--though in the half dusk the old
man certainly never noticed it. I found all this out from those few
words of Wilson's about 'the rope,' and from his having heard a
reed-like sound. I had to do some hard thinking, I can tell you. When I
went downstairs again, Mr. Narkom, after my magnifying glass, I turned
down poor Simmons's sock and found the mark I expected--the snake had
crawled up his leg and struck home.

"Why did I suspect Mr. Brent? Well, it was obvious almost from the very
first, for he was so anxious to throw suspicion upon Mr. Barrington
here, and Wilson--with Patterson thrown in for good measure. Then again
it was certain that no one else would have been allowed into the vault
by Simmons, much less to go to the safe itself, and open it with the
keys. That he did go to the safe was apparent by the finger prints upon
it, and as they too smelt of aniseed, the whole thing began to look
decidedly funny. The trail of aniseed led straight up to where Simmons
lay, so I can only suppose that after Brent released the snake--the
trail of course having been laid beforehand, when he was alone--Brent
must have stood and waited until he saw it actually strike, and--How do
I know that, Mr. Wilson? Well, he smoked a cigarette there, anyhow. The
stub I found bore the same name as those in his box, and it was smoked
identically the same way as a couple which lay in his ashtray.

"I could only conclude that he was waiting for something to happen, and
as the snake struck, he gr