d now--they've got it!"

"They've got--or somebody's got--your pocket-book," I answered. "But
really, you know, Mr. Cazalette, this, and the handkerchief, mayn't
have been the thief's object. You see, it must be pretty well known
that you go down there to bathe every morning, and are in the habit of
leaving your clothes about--and, well there may be those who're not
particularly honest even in these Arcadian solitudes."

"No--I'm not with you, Middlebrook!" he said. "Somewhere around us
there's what I say--crafty and bloody murderers! But ye'll keep all
this to yourself for awhile, and----"

Just then the dinner-bell rang, and he put the photographic print
away, and we went downstairs together. That was the evening on which
Dr. Lorrimore was to dine with us--we found him in the hall, talking
to Mr. Raven and his niece. Joining them, we found that their subject
of conversation was the same that had just engaged Mr. Cazalette and
myself--the tobacco-box. It turned out that the police-inspector had
been round to Lorrimore's house, inquiring if Lorrimore, who, with the
police-surgeon, had occupied a seat at the table whereon the Quick
relics were laid out at the inquest, had noticed that now missing and
consequently all-important object.

"Of course I saw it!" remarked Lorrimore, narrating this. "I told him
I not only saw it, but handled it--so, too, did several other
people--Mr. Cazalette there had drawn attention to the thing when we
were examining the dead man, and there was some curiosity about it."
(Here Mr. Cazalette, standing close by me, nudged my elbow, to remind
me of what he had just said upstairs.) "And I told the inspector
something else, or, rather, put him in mind of something he'd
evidently forgotten," continued Lorrimore. "That inquest, or, to be
precise, the adjourned inquest, was attended by a good many strangers,
who had evidently been attracted by mere curiosity. There were a lot
of people there who certainly did not belong to this neighbourhood.
And when the proceedings were over, they came crowding round that
table, morbidly inquisitive about the dead man's belongings. What
easier, as I said to the inspector, than for some one of them--perhaps
a curio-hunter--to quietly pick up that box and make off with it?
There are people who'd give a good deal to lay hold of a souvenir of
that sort."

Mr. Raven muttered something about no accounting for tastes, and we
went in to dinner, and began to talk of