The maid showed them into a room and asked them to wait until she could find him. “If he isn’t, then ask Miss Hawkhurst to see us for a moment if she can,” Wendover directed. In a few moments, Arthur Hawkhurst entered the room, looking rather surprised when he saw who his two visitors were. “Fairly travelling round and seeing the country, aren’t you, Wendover? Morbid curiosity, I think, haunting the scene of crime like this.” He nodded to Ardsley. Quite obviously the double murder had not affected his spirits to any extent. Wendover was not much surprised. The boy had never been a favourite with either of his uncles; and though he seemed lacking in decent respect for the victims, Wendover put it down to Arthur’s slightly unbalanced mentality. “I’d have preferred a shade less cheeriness, I must say,” he thought to himself, “but I suppose it would have been mere hypocrisy in his case, and one must make some allowance for his brain being a bit abnormal just now.” He came to the point at once. “We’ve been sent up by Sir Clinton Driffield to see if something is in that museum of your uncle’s. He wants to know if it’s been removed by any chance.” “What the devil does he know about the museum?” demanded Arthur. “He never saw it when he was here in the afternoon. What does he want with it anyway? And what is it that he does want? Does he think one of the blokes upstairs had offended one of the Mayan idols and got a settler by way of squaring the account?” “No,” Wendover said, hastily. “Nothing of that sort.” “Well, what is it then? I’ll get it for you.” “Don’t trouble, please. Dr. Ardsley knows the look of it and it will be easiest for us to go to the museum and look round ourselves.” “Oh, indeed!” Arthur grew distinctly hostile. “You seem to take a good deal on yourselves. Why not wait till you’re asked, before wandering about in people’s houses?” Wendover felt that the matter was becoming awkward. The boy seemed to have flown into a passion, one of these storms of emotion to which he had been subject since his illness. And then another thought crossed Wendover’s mind, though he tried to dismiss it. Why should Arthur be so anxious to prevent them entering the museum? Curare had not been mentioned. Surely young Hawkhurst could have no suspicion of what they wanted; and yet he seemed determined to put difficulties in the way. It was with great relief that he saw Sylvia come into the room. After greeting her, he turned away from Arthur and explained the matter to the girl. “Of course. Come along at once,” she invited them, ignoring Arthur’s lowering face. “Anything we can do to clear up this miserable affair ought to be done.”