I could see that nothing I could do would shake his determination. So I turned the subject.
"Are you in a hurry to look over Prescott's bedroom again?"
"It depends on what you mean by a 'hurry.'"
"Well, what about a 100 up before we go?" I took a cue and walked to the billiard-table.
"Right-O," said Anthony. "A little relaxation won't harm either of us."
The three balls were in the bottom right-hand pocket where they had lain, presumably, for some days.
"Let's have them," I cried. "Spot or Plain?"
"Anything," he answered. "Spot!" He put his flat hand, palm upwards, underneath the pocket and sent the balls rolling on to the green cloth.
"Go on," I said, "break." He opened by giving me the usual point. I replied by coming off the red ball on to the spot-ball and in attempting a second cannon I failed, leaving the red nicely in front of the bottom right-hand pocket. Anthony smiled in appreciative approval.
"Thank you, Bill!" He promptly potted the red. "I can see visions of a nice healthy little break here," said he, as he sidled round to pick the red ball out. He plunged his hand into the pocket. Then I saw his face register surprise.
"What's up?" I queried half-interestedly.
"Something down here in the pocket, Bill," he returned. "A piece of paper." He drew out a twisted piece of paper and smoothed it out with his fingers--it was a portion of envelope. In a second it flashed into my mind what it was. Something seemed to hammer it into my brain instantaneously. Before my tongue could give sound to the message that was flooding my brain Anthony spoke very quietly, and very gravely. I remember that I marvelled at the time that he could retain so undisturbed an equanimity.
"Bill," he said, "Barker's I.O.U.! By Jove!"
"How the devil did it come there?" I exclaimed.
He thought for a second or two before replying. "Well, taking all the circumstances into consideration, not such an unlikely place, after all, to find it. Prescott's body lay across this table, near this particular pocket, and it's quite conceivable that (1) the I.O.U. fell in some manner from his coat pocket into the billiard-table pocket or (2) the I.O.U. was taken from the body by the murderer, and dropped, either in the struggle or afterwards. The murderer might even have searched the room for it--assuming that he wanted it badly--and never imagined that it had fallen where it had."