“It's a possibility, squire. We needn't brood over it just yet, however. When we get into Foxhills, we'll see if anything's missing except these things.” He glanced at his wrist-watch. “Time's getting on. These people might be here any minute, if the constable didn't waste time. Let's finish up this symposium. Suppose we eliminate robbery as a motive, then——” He broke off abruptly in the middle of the sentence as a car came along the avenue and drew up at the entrance to the lane which led down to the cottage. Paul Fordingbridge was driving, and his sister sat beside him. Followed by his two companions, Sir Clinton walked down the lane to where the car had halted. Chapter V The Diary “I suppose the constable explained things more or less, Mr. Fordingbridge?” Sir Clinton asked, as he came abreast of the car. Miss Fordingbridge did not wait for her brother's reply. “It's really dreadful, Sir Clinton,” she broke out. “I can hardly believe that it's true. And who could want to kill poor Peter Hay, who hadn't an enemy in the world, is beyond me altogether. I simply can't imagine it. And what made them do it? I can't guess. I must try at my next _séance_ to see if I can get any light on it. Perhaps you've found out all about it already.” Sir Clinton shook his head. “We've found out next to nothing, I'm sorry to say.” Miss Fordingbridge regarded him with marked disapproval. “And aren't you going to arrest the man who killed him?” “In the end, I hope,” Sir Clinton answered patiently. Then he turned to Paul Fordingbridge. “These are the keys of Foxhills that Peter Hay kept. I haven't a search-warrant; but we must get into the house, if you'll let us go over it. Would you mind showing us round the place? You see, you know all about it, and your help would be of value to us in case there's anything wrong up there.” At the word “search-warrant,” Paul Fordingbridge seemed to prick up his ears; and there was a perceptible pause before he answered the chief constable's inquiry. “Certainly, if you wish it,” he replied smoothly. “I shall be only too glad to give you any assistance that I can. But what makes you think there's anything wrong at Foxhills? The constable told us that Peter Hay was found at his own cottage.” At a gesture from Sir Clinton, the inspector went over to the chief constable's car and, first drawing on his rubber gloves, he brought back one of the silver ornaments taken from Peter Hay's drawer. “You recognise that?” Sir Clinton asked. “Yes, indeed,” Miss Fordingbridge replied, without hesitation. “That's one of the things we left behind when we shut up Foxhills. It's of no great value, and so we didn't send it to the bank strong-room with the rest of the stuff.” “Peter Hay told someone it was valuable,” the inspector broke in. “Oh, so it was, in a way,” Miss Fordingbridge replied. “It was a present to me from an old friend, and so it had a sentimental value. But in itself it's worth next to nothing, as you can see.”