British Mystery Classics - Arthur Morrison Edition (Illustrated). Morrison Arthur

was the brooch?”

      “I should say almost on the very same spot. Certainly no more than a very few inches away.”

      Hewitt examined the match closely. “It is burned very little,” he remarked. “It would appear to have gone out at once. Could you hear it struck?”

      “I heard nothing whatever; absolutely nothing.”

      “If you will step into Miss Norris’ room now for a moment,” Hewitt suggested, “we will try an experiment. Tell me if you hear matches struck, and how many. Where is the match-stand?”

      The match-stand proved to be empty, but matches were found in Miss Norris’ room, and the test was made. Each striking could be heard distinctly, even with one of the doors pushed to.

      “Both your own door and Miss Norris’ were open, I understand; the window shut and fastened inside as it is now, and nothing but the brooch was disturbed?”

      “Yes, that was so.”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Cazenove. I don’t think I need trouble you any further just at present. I think, Sir James,” Hewitt added, turning to the baronet, who was standing by the door—“I think we will see the other room and take a walk outside the house, if you please. I suppose, by the by, that there is no getting at the matches left behind on the first and second occasions?”

      “No,” Sir James answered. “Certainly not here. The Scotland Yard man may have kept his.”

      The room that Mrs. Armitage had occupied presented no peculiar feature. A few feet below the window the roof of the billiard-room was visible, consisting largely of skylight. Hewitt glanced casually about the walls, ascertained that the furniture and hangings had not been materially changed since the second robbery, and expressed his desire to see the windows from the outside. Before leaving the room, however, he wished to know the names of any persons who were known to have been about the house on the occasions of all three robberies.

      “Just carry your mind back, Sir James,” he said. “Begin with yourself, for instance. Where were you at these times?”

      “When Mrs. Heath lost her bracelet, I was in Tagley Wood all the afternoon. When Mrs. Armitage was robbed, I believe I was somewhere about the place most of the time she was out. Yesterday I was down at the farm.” Sir James’ face broadened. “I don’t know whether you call those suspicious movements,” he added, and laughed.

      “Not at all; I only asked you so that, remembering your own movements, you might the better recall those of the rest of the household. Was anybody, to your knowledge—anybody, mind—in the house on all three occasions?”

      “Well, you know, it’s quite impossible to answer for all the servants. You’ll only get that by direct questioning—I can’t possibly remember things of that sort. As to the family and visitors—why, you don’t suspect any of them, do you?”

      “I don’t suspect a soul, Sir James,” Hewitt answered, beaming genially, “not a soul. You see, I can’t suspect people till I know something about where they were. It’s quite possible there will be independent evidence enough as it is, but you must help me if you can. The visitors, now. Was there any visitor here each time—or even on the first and last occasions only?”

      “No, not one. And my own sister, perhaps you will be pleased to know, was only there at the time of the first robbery.”

      “Just so! And your daughter, as I have gathered, was clearly absent from the spot each time—indeed, was in company with the party robbed. Your niece, now?”

      “Why hang it all, Mr. Hewitt, I can’t talk of my niece as a suspected criminal! The poor girl’s under my protection, and I really can’t allow—”

      Hewitt raised his hand, and shook his head deprecatingly.

      “My dear sir, haven’t I said that I don’t suspect a soul? Do let me know how the people were distributed, as nearly as possible. Let me see. It was your, niece, I think, who found that Mrs. Armitage’s door was locked—this door, in fact—on the day she lost her brooch?”

      “Yes, it was.”

      “Just so—at the time when Mrs. Armitage herself had forgotten whether she locked it or not. And yesterday—was she out then?”

      “No, I think not. Indeed, she goes out very little—her health is usually bad. She was indoors, too, at the time of the Heath robbery, since you ask. But come, now, I don’t like this. It’s ridiculous to suppose that she knows anything of it.”

      “I don’t suppose it, as I have said. I am only asking for information. That is all your resident family, I take it, and you know nothing of anybody else’s movements—except, perhaps, Mr. Lloyd’s?”

      “Lloyd? Well, you know yourself that he was out with the ladies when the first robbery took place. As to the others, I don’t remember. Yesterday he was probably in his room, writing. I think that acquits him, eh?” Sir James looked quizzically into the broad face of the affable detective, who smiled and replied:

      “Oh, of course nobody can be in two places at once, else what would become of the alibi as an institution? But, as I have said, I am only setting my facts in order. Now, you see, we get down to the servants—unless some stranger is the party wanted. Shall we go outside now?”

      Lenton Croft was a large, desultory sort of house, nowhere more than three floors high, and mostly only two. It had been added to bit by bit, till it zigzagged about its site, as Sir James Norris expressed it, “like a game of dominoes.” Hewitt scrutinized its external features carefully as they strolled around, and stopped some little while before the windows of the two bedrooms he had just seen from the inside. Presently they approached the stables and coach-house, where a groom was washing the wheels of the dog-cart.

      “Do you mind my smoking?” Hewitt asked Sir James. “Perhaps you will take a cigar yourself—they are not so bad, I think. I will ask your man for a light.”

      Sir James felt for his own match-box, but Hewitt had gone, and was lighting his cigar with a match from a box handed him by the groom. A smart little terrier was trotting about by the coach-house, and Hewitt stooped to rub its head. Then he made some observation about the dog, which enlisted the groom’s interest, and was soon absorbed in a chat with the man. Sir James, waiting a little way off, tapped the stones rather impatiently with his foot, and presently moved away.

      For full a quarter of an hour Hewitt chatted with the groom, and, when at last he came away and overtook Sir James, that gentleman was about re-entering the house.

      “I beg your pardon, Sir James,” Hewitt said, “for leaving you in that unceremonious fashion to talk to your groom, but a dog, Sir James—a good dog—will draw me anywhere.”

      “Oh!” replied Sir James, shortly.

      “There is one other thing,” Hewitt went on, disregarding the other’s curtness, “that I should like to know: There are two windows directly below that of the room occupied yesterday by Mrs. Cazenove—one on each floor. What rooms do they light?”

      “That on the ground floor is the morning-room; the other is Mr. Lloyd’s—my secretary. A sort of study or sitting-room.”

      “Now you will see at once, Sir James,” Hewitt pursued, with an affable determination to win the baronet back to good-humor—“you will see at once that, if a ladder had been used in Mrs. Heath’s case, anybody looking from either of these rooms would have seen it.”

      “Of course! The Scotland Yard man questioned everybody as to that, but nobody seemed to have been in either of the rooms when the thing occurred; at any rate, nobody saw anything.”

      “Still, I think I should like to look out of those windows myself; it will, at least, give me an idea of what was in view and what was not,