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As Brixton proceeded I had
noticed Kennedy's nostrils dilating almost as if he were a hound
and had scented his quarry. I sniffed, too. Yes, there was a faint
odour, almost as if of garlic in the room. It was unmistakable.
Craig was looking about curiously, as if to discover a window by
which the odour might have entered. Brixton, with his eyes
following keenly every move, noticed him.
"More than that" he added quickly, "I have had the most perfect
system of modern ventilation installed in this room, absolutely
independent from that in the house."
Kennedy said nothing.
"A moment ago, Mr. Kennedy, I saw you and Mr. Jameson glancing up
at the ceiling. Sound-proof as this room is, or as I believe it to
be, I--I hear voices, voices from--not through, you understand,
but from--that very ceiling. I do not hear them now. It is only at
certain times when I am alone. They repeat the words in some of
these letters--'You must not take up those bonds. You must not
endanger the peace of the world. You will never live to get the
interest.


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