"It was dusk. It was after Ave Maria, for I heard the bells ringing
before I got here."
"And you did not notice the blood on the stones when you came in,
because it was dusk, I suppose," said the detective, assuming a
knowing smile, as if he had caught the man.
"I saw it this morning," answered the porter without hesitation, "and
I washed it away."
"You should have called the police," said the other severely.
"Should I, sir?" The porter affected great politeness all at once.
"You will excuse my ignorance."
"We are wasting time," Volterra said to the detective. "The porter
knows nothing about it. Let us go upstairs."
He led the way, and the others followed, including Gigi, who carried a
leathern bag containing a few tools.
"It is of no use to ring again," observed Volterra. "There cannot be
anybody in the apartment, and this is my own house. Open that door for
us, my man, and do as little damage as you can."
Gigi looked at the patent lock.
"I cannot pick that, sir," he said. "The gentleman made me put it on
for him, and it is one of those American patent locks."
"Break it, then," Volterra answered.
Gigi selected a strong chisel, and inserted the blade in the crack of
the door, on a level with the brass disk. He found the steel bolt
easily.
"Take care," he said to the Baron, who was nearest to him and drew
back to give him room to swing his hammer.
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