Evidently Peter Hay had misunderstood something which he had heard. Armadale, rather disgusted by the news, carried the article back to the chief constable's car. “We'll need to keep that and the other things in our charge for a time,” Sir Clinton said apologetically. “They were found at Peter Hay's cottage. Perhaps you could suggest some reason for their removal from Foxhills?” “There's no reason whatever that I can see,” Miss Fordingbridge replied promptly. “Peter Hay had nothing to do with them, and he'd no right to take them out of the house. None at all.” “Possibly he mistook them for things of value, and thought they'd be safer in his cottage,” Wendover suggested. “He had no right to touch anything of mine,” Miss Fordingbridge commented decidedly. “Suppose we go up to the house?” Paul Fordingbridge suggested in a colourless voice. “You'll take your own car? Good. Then I'll go ahead.” He pressed the self-starter and took his car up the avenue. Sir Clinton and his companions got into their own car and followed. “You didn't get much out of _him_,” Wendover commented to the others. Sir Clinton smiled. “I don't think he got much chance to volunteer information,” he pointed out. They reached Foxhills as Paul Fordingbridge was opening the main door of the house; and he invited them with a gesture to come in. “I suppose you merely wish to have a general look round?” he asked. “Do just as you like. I'll go round with you and answer any questions that I can for you.” Miss Fordingbridge attached herself to the party, and they went from room to room. Sir Clinton and the inspector examined the window-catches without finding anything amiss. At last Miss Fordingbridge noticed something out of the common. “We left a few silver knick-knacks lying about. I don't see any of them.” Inspector Armadale made a note in his pocketbook. “Could you give me a list of them?” he asked. Miss Fordingbridge seemed taken aback. “No, I couldn't. How could you expect me to remember all the trifles we left about? I daresay I could remember some of them. There was a silver rose-bowl; but it was very thin, and I'm sure it wasn't worth much. And a couple of little hollow statuettes, and some other things. They weren't of any value.” “What room is this?” Sir Clinton inquired, cutting her eloquence short, as they paused before a fresh door. “The drawing-room.” She went in before the others and cast a glance round the room. “What's that?” she demanded, as though her companions were personally responsible for a sack which stood near one of the windows. Armadale went swiftly across the room, opened the mouth of the sack and glanced inside. “It looks like the missing loot,” he remarked. “I can see something like a rose-bowl amongst it, and the head of one of your statuettes. You might look for yourself, Miss Fordingbridge.” He stood aside to let her inspect the contents of the sack. “Yes, these are some of the things,” she confirmed at once.