"I accused him of stealing the knife and several other small articles. He turned red, but he did not deny his guilt. Out of consideration for his hard-working mother, I did not prosecute him, but sent him away, lest he should contaminate Amelia and the other servants." "Where is he now?" "Staying with Mrs. Jedd, his mother. As you know, she is the wardrobe mistress at the Bijou Music-hall." "Thank you. I'll go and see Bottles. I can't believe that such an honest lad is guilty." And Hench turned on his heel. "Wait, sir. You do not blame me?" "Oh, no. If he did not deny your accusation, you acted rightly. But there must be some explanation of this. What it is I go to find out." Mrs. Tesk would have detained him to ask questions concerning Madame Alpenny's frame of mind, but Hench refused to stay. He was now beginning to wonder if the Hungarian lady really was guilty. It seemed as if Bottles was the culprit, that is if he had really stolen the carving-knife. With such a weapon the crime had certainly been committed. CHAPTER XX REAPING THE WHIRLWIND The weather was uncommonly hot. For weeks the sun had been blazing in a cloudless sky, as it did in the tropics, and the earth was parched for want of rain. Everywhere it was seamed and cracked; everywhere the grass was brown and the trees were wilted, while the air was like the thrice-heated breath of a furnace. Animals and human beings went languidly about their business and longed all day for the cool night hours. Not that it was particularly cool even when the twilight came, but it was something to escape the pitiless blue sky and the burning sun. And on this particular evening a hot wind rose with unexpected suddenness to make matters worse. It raised clouds of dust, it rattled the dry foliage in Parley Wood, and brought no sense of relief to the worn and weary. As people are never really prepared for an unusually hot season in England, the Cookley villagers found this equatorial summer excessively trying and disagreeable.