emed to fly around
the room like one possessed of a fiend of unrest. Picking up a glass
tumbler, he sniffed it and put it in a pocket. He peered at the bed,
the dressing-table, the carpet; opened drawers and wardrobe doors,
examined towels in the bathroom, and stuffed one beneath his
waistcoat.

Running back to the sitting-room, he found a torn envelope, and began
picking up some specks of grit from the carpet, each of which went
into a corner of the envelope, which he folded and stowed away. Then
he bent over the fireplace and rummaged among the cinders. Three
calcined lumps, not wholly consumed, appeared to interest him. A
newspaper was handy; he wrapped the grimy treasure trove in a sheet,
and that small parcel also went into a pocket.

When a swish of skirts on the stairs announced the housemaid he
retreated to the bedroom, and the girl found him standing at a south
window, gazing out over the fair vista of the Italian terraces and the
rolling parkland.

"Yes, sir," said the girl timidly.

He turned, as if he had not heard her approach. She was pale, and her
eyes were red, for the feminine portion of the household was in a
state of collapse.

"I only wanted to ask why a fire is laid in the sitting-room in such
fine weather," he said.

"Mr. Hilton sits up late, sir, and if the evening is at all chilly, he
puts a match to the grate himself."

"Ah, a silly question. Don't tell anybody I spoke of it or they'll
think me a funny detective, won't they?"

He smiled genially, and the girl's face brightened.

"I don't see that, sir," she said. "I don't know why Mr. Hilton wanted
a fire last night. It was quite hot. I slept with my window wide
open."

"A very healthy habit, too. Do you attend to Mr. Robert's suite?"

"Yes, sir."

"Does _he_ have a fire?"

"Never in the summer, sir."

"He's a warmer-blooded creature than Mr. Hilton, I fancy."

"I expect so, sir."

"Well, now, there's nothing here. But we detectives have to nose
around everywhere. I'm sure you are terribly upset by your master's
death. Everybody gives him a good word."

"Indeed, he deserved it, sir. We all liked him. He was strict but very
generous."

Furneaux chatted with her while they descended the stairs and
traversed devious passages till the butler's room was gained. By that
time the housemaid was convinced that Mr. Furneaux was "a very nice
man." When she "did" Hilton Fenley's rooms she missed the glass, but
gave no heed to its