undles--one, a
large one, was done up in linen; the other, a small one, in a wrapping
of canvas. "That," he continued, pointing to the linen-covered
package, "contains his clothing; this, his effects: his money, watch
and chain, and so on. It's sealed, as you see, but we can put fresh
seals on after breaking these."

"Very kind of you to take so much trouble," said Miss Raven. "All to
satisfy a mere whim."

The inspector assured her that it was no trouble, and broke the seals
of the small, carefully-wrapped package. There, neatly done up, were
the dead man's effects, even down to his pipe and pouch. His money was
there, notes, gold, silver, copper; there was a stump of lead-pencil
and a bit of string; every single thing found upon him had been kept.
But the tobacco-box was not there.

"I--I don't see it!" exclaimed the inspector. "How's this?"

He turned the things over again, and yet again--there was no
tobacco-box. And at that, evidently vexed and perplexed, he rang a
bell and asked for a particular constable, who presently entered. The
inspector indicated the various properties.

"Didn't you put these things together when the inquest was over?" he
demanded. "They were all lying on the table at the inquest--we showed
them there. I told you to put them up and bring them here and seal
them."

"I did, sir," answered the man. "I put together everything that was on
the table, at once. The package was never out of my hands till I got
it here, and sealed it. Sergeant Brown and myself counted the money,
sir."

"The money is all right," observed the inspector. "But there's a metal
box--a tobacco-box--missing. Do you remember it?"

"Can't say that I do, sir," replied the constable. "I packed up
everything that was there."

The inspector nodded a dismissal; when we were alone again, he turned
to Miss Raven and me with a queer expression.

"That box has been abstracted at the inquest!" he said, "Now then!--by
whom?--and why?"

CHAPTER VII

YELLOWFACE

It was very evident that the inspector was considerably puzzled, not
to say upset, by the disappearance of the tobacco-box, and I fancied
that I saw the real reason of his discomfiture. He had poohpoohed Mr.
Cazalette's almost senile eagerness about the thing, treating his
request as of no importance; now he suddenly discovered that somebody
had conceived a remarkable interest in the tobacco-box and had
cleverly annexed it--under his very eyes--and he was