"Ah, I see," said Cleek, and stroked his chin. "Well, that's all, I reckon, for the time being. Ojeebi has certainly backed up your statement to the fullest, your lordship, so we can dispense with him entirely. And now, if I have your permission, gentlemen, I should like to feel myself privileged to go poking about the house and grounds for the next hour or so in quest of possible clues. At the end of that time I will rejoin you here, and shall hope to have something definite to report. So if you don't mind my going----Thanks very much. Come along, Mr. Narkom. I've a little something for you to do, and--an hour will do it, or I'm a dogberry." With that he took his departure from the armoury and, with the superintendent following, went down through the house to the grounds and out into the screen of close crowding, view-defying trees. Here he paused a minute to pull out his notebook and scribble something on a leaf, and then to tear out that leaf and put it into Mr. Narkom's hand. "Rush Lennard off to the post-office with that, will you? and have it wired up to town as soon as possible," he said. "Prepay the reply, and get that reply back to me as soon as telegraph and motor can get it here." Then he swung off out of the screen of the trees and round the angle of the building, and set about hunting for the refrigerating plant. CHAPTER XXX It was five and after when the superintendent, pale and shaking with excitement, came up the long drive from the Hall gates and found Cleek lounging in the doorway of the house, placidly smoking a cigarette and twirling a little ball of crumpled newspaper in his hand. "Right was I, Mr. Narkom?" he queried smilingly. "Good God, yes! Right as rain, old chap. Been carrying it for upward of a twelvemonth, and no doubt waiting for an opportunity to strike." "Good! And while you have been attending to your little part of the business I've been looking out for mine, dear friend. Look!" said Cleek, and opened up the little ball of paper sufficiently to show what looked like a cut-glass scent bottle belonging to a lady's dressing-bag close stoppered with a metal plug sealed round with candle wax. "Woorali, my friend; and enough in it to kill an army. Come along--we've got to the bottom of the thing, let us go up and 'report.' The gentlemen will be getting anxious." They were; for on reaching the armoury they found young Drake and Lord Fallowfield showing strong traces of the mental strain under which they were labouring and talking agitatedly with Lady Marjorie Wynde, who had, in the interim, come up and joined them, and was herself apparently in need of something to sustain and to strengthen her; for Ojeebi was standing by with an extended salver, from which she had just lifted to her lips a glass of port.