To my dismay, Robert Stanton was standing in the threshold of the door to his suite when I arrived to search Room 5. 

 

“Well, there you are, Detective. Back for more trouble?”

 

“Not trouble, sir; I’m here to find the murderer loose on your train. Mind if I take a look in your room?”

 

“You’ll find no murderers in here. I can assure you of that, Detective.”

 

A weasley smile formed on his lips. I turned my body, squeezing past his thin frame, and entered the room.

 

“Well, it looks quite tidy in here, Mr. Stanton, and my, what a gorgeous apartment you’ve made for yourself. Is that jewelry box made of ivory?” 

 

Annoyed, he stepped over to the golden vanity and put the box in a drawer.

 

“Yes…it is.”

 

“And the red sheets? Are those silk?”

 

“Straight from China, Detective. You have a good eye, I must say.”

 

I tipped my head under the king bed: nothing. 

 

“I don’t miss much, Mr. Stanton.”

 

He followed me closely around the apartment as I looked high and low amongst the many mahogany furnishings and sheep skin rugs.

 

The bathroom was in order, and a small collection of wine was neatly stowed above a seating area.

 

Slightly frustrated, I was just about to leave when I noticed a closet near the room's northern entrance. Just outside the doors, the faint outline of two large rectangular objects were marked in dust.

 

“What’s in there?” I asked.

 

“Nothing of interest, Detective. I rarely make use of the closet. It’s the domain of Thomas and Mrs. Stanton, I’m afraid.”

 

“Mind if I have a look?”

 

“Yes.”

 

I marched over anyway and pulled open the doors. 

 

Inside, two seemingly endless rows of clothing were strung from one wall of the room to the other. Skirts, dresses, suits, ties, pants–in every color on the rainbow–hung one above the other in the closet. I sifted through the articles fairly quickly, finding nothing of substance. However, in the course of my searching, something big caught my eye: nestled in the left most corner of the closet, invisible to the eye from the outside, was a tall, man-sized safe. Testing my luck, I found it to be locked.

 

“Well, I don’t know what I expected.” I said. 

 

“That is private property, Detective, and I’m afraid I couldn’t open it if I wanted to. The key has gone missing.”

 

“When did you last have it?”

 

“Yesterday. I keep my cufflinks in there. I retrieved these just before dinner.”

He showed me the golden cufflinks on his wrists shaped like clovers.

 

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Stanton.”

 

His lips twisted into a smile. “I know, Detective.”

 

“Keep an eye out for your key. I will do the same. And don’t return to this room without my permission.”

 

“If you insist.” 

 

I put a hand on his lower back and we left the room together.