Again that quick, suspicious glance shot into the woman’s eyes. Lady Molly took the chair which Danvers had brought forward for her, and sat down opposite Mrs. Haggett, fixing her earnest, calm gaze upon her. “There’s not much to tell,” said the woman, sullenly. “Haggett is certainly queer in his head sometimes--and when he is queer he goes wandering about the place of nights.” “Yes?” said my lady, for Mrs. Haggett had paused awhile and now seemed unwilling to proceed. “Well!” she resumed with sudden determination, “he had got one of his queer fits on on Christmas Eve, and didn’t come in till long after midnight. He told me as how he’d seen a young gentleman prowling about the garden on the terrace side. He heard the cry of ‘Murder’ and ‘Help’ soon after that, and ran in home because he was frightened.” “Home?” asked Lady Molly, quietly, “where is home?” “The cottage where we live. Just back of the kitchen garden.” “Why didn’t you tell all this to the superintendent before?” “Because Haggett only told me last night, when he seemed less queer-like. He is mighty silent when the fits are on him.” “Did he know who the gentleman was whom he saw?” “No, ma’am--I don’t suppose he did--leastways he wouldn’t say--but----” “Yes? But?” “He found this in the garden yesterday,” said the woman, holding out a screw of paper which apparently she had held tightly clutched up to now, “and maybe that’s what brought Christmas Eve and the murder back to his mind.” Lady Molly took the thing from her, and undid the soiled bit of paper with her dainty fingers. The next moment she held up for Etty’s inspection a beautiful ring composed of an exquisitely carved moonstone surrounded with diamonds of unusual brilliance. At the moment the setting and the stones themselves were marred by scraps of sticky mud which clung to them; the ring obviously having lain on the ground, and perhaps been trampled on for some days, and then been only very partially washed. “At any rate you can find out the ownership of the ring,” commented my dear lady after awhile, in answer to Etty’s silent attitude of expectancy. “There would be no harm in that.” Then she turned once more to the woman. “I’ll walk with you to your cottage, if I may,” she said decisively, “and have a chat with your husband. Is he at home?” I thought Mrs. Haggett took this suggestion with marked reluctance. I could well imagine, from her own personal appearance, that her home was most unlikely to be in a fit state for a lady’s visit. However, she could, of course, do nothing but obey, and, after a few muttered words of grudging acquiescence, she rose from her chair and stalked towards the door, leaving my lady to follow as she chose. Before going, however, she turned and shot an angry glance at Etty. “You’ll give me back the ring, Master Inspector,” she said with her usual tone of sullen defiance. “‘Findings is keepings’ you know.”