in the chest, and looked inside.

"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.

Antony looked over his shoulder.

"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked. "Did he ever change
down here?"

"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I
go from London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark
never did. In his flat in London he had everything all over again which
he has here. It was a hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he'd
had half a dozen houses, they would all have been full of a complete
gentleman's town and country outfit."

"I see."

"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
comfortable coat."

"I see. Yes." He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and
glanced in. "He seems to have come in here for a collar lately."

Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.

"Yes. I daresay he would," he agreed. "If he suddenly found that the one
he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or something. He
was very finicking."

Antony leant over and picked it out.

"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after examining it
carefully. "It couldn't very well be cleaner." He dropped it back again.
"Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"

"Oh, yes, rather."

"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"

"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill. "That's what I don't
understand. You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."

"No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
something which he didn't want me to hear."

"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.

"Yes; but what?"

Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.

"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted by the
effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then,
struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, "Do you think
I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they're still at it?
Because--"

He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.

"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried. "Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons!
Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!"

"What on earth--"

"T