He produced a bunch of keys and tried them all, but none fitted. Then Hewitt felt about inside the locks very carefully with a match, and then taking a button-hook from his pocket, after a little careful “humouring” work, turned both the locks, one after another, and lifted the lids. Mrs. Beckle uttered an exclamation of dismay, and the inspector looked at her rather quizzically. The boxes contained nothing but bricks. [Illustration: “THE BOXES CONTAINED NOTHING BUT BRICKS.”] “Ah,” said the inspector, “I’ve seen that sort of suits o’ clothes before. People have ’em who don’t pay hotel bills and such like. You’re a very good pick-lock, by the way, Mr. Hewitt. I never saw anything quicker and neater.” “But I _know_ he had a lot of clothes,” Mrs. Beckle protested. “I’ve seen them.” “Very likely--very likely indeed,” the inspector answered. “But they’re gone now, and Mr. Foster’s gone with ’em.” “But--but the girl didn’t say he had any bundles with him when he went out?” “No, she didn’t; and she didn’t say he hadn’t, did she? She won’t say anything about him, and she says she won’t, plump. Even supposing he _hadn’t_ got them with him this morning, that signifies nothing. The clothes are gone, and anybody intending a job of _that_ sort”--the inspector jerked his thumb significantly towards the skipper’s room--“would get his things away quietly first, so as to have no difficulty about getting away himself afterwards. No; the thing’s pretty plain now, I think; and I’m afraid Mr. Foster’s a pretty bad lot. Anyway, I shouldn’t like to be in his shoes.” “Nor I,” Hewitt assented. “Evidence of that sort isn’t easy to get over.” “Come, Mrs. Beckle,” the inspector said, “do you mind coming into the front room with us? The body’s covered over with a rug.” The landlady disliked going, it was plain to see, but presently she pulled herself together and followed the men. She peeped once distrustfully round the door to where the body lay, and then resolutely turned her back on it. “His watch and chain are gone, and whatever else he had in his pockets,” the inspector said. “I think you said he had a ring?” “Yes, one--a thick gold one.” “Then that’s gone too. Everything’s turned upside down, and probably other things are stolen too. Do you miss any?” “Yes,” Mrs. Beckle replied, looking round, but avoiding with her eyes the rug-covered heap near the fireplace. “There was a sextant on the mantel-piece: it was his; and he kept one or two other instruments in that drawer”--pointing to one which had been turned out--“but they seem to be gone now. And there was a small ship, carved in ivory, and worth money, I believe--that’s gone. I don’t know about his clothes; some of them may be stolen or they may not.” She stepped to the bed and turned back the coverlet. “Oh,” she added, “the sheets are gone from the bed too!” “Usual thing,” the inspector remarked; “wrap up the swag in a sheet, you know--makes a convenient bundle. Nothing else missing?”