"And thought it was an important fact, I suppose?" "What its importance is, it's hard to say, but it's a fact, and seems to me well worth noting." "It is noted," said the Procurator Fiscal drily. "But I can't see that it leads anywhere." "Bisset maintains it implies Sir Reginald fell over it when he was struck down; and that seems to me pretty likely." Simon shook his head. "How do we know Sir Reginald hadn't broken it himself previously and then set it up against the wall--assuming it ever stood anywhere else, which seems to want confirmation?" "A dashed thin suggestion!" said Ned. "However, what are the other discoveries?" "The second is that one or two small fragments of dried mud were found under the edge of the curtain, and the third is that the hearth brush was placed in an unusual position--according to Bisset." "And what are Bisset's conclusions?" "That the man, whoever he was, had brought mud into the room and then swept it up with the hearth brush; these fragments being pieces that he had swept accidentally under the curtain and so overlooked." "Good for Bisset!" exclaimed Ned. "He has got there this time, I do believe." Simon smiled sceptically. "Sir Reginald was in the library in his walking boots that afternoon. Naturally he would leave mud, and quite likely he swept it up himself then, though the only evidence of sweeping is Bisset's statement about the brush. And what proof is that of anything? Does your hearth brush always stay in the same position?" "Never noticed," said Ned. "And I don't believe anybody notices sufficiently closely to make their evidence on such a point worth a rap!" said Simon. "A servant would." "Well, Mr. Cromarty, make the most of the hearth brush then." There seemed for an instant to be a defiant note in the Procurator Fiscal's voice that made Ned glance at him sharply. But he saw nothing in his face but the same set and steady look. "We're on the same side in this racket, Mr. Rattar," said Ned. "I'm only trying to help--same as you." Simon's voice seemed now to have exactly the opposite note. For him, his tone of acquiescence was even eager. "Quite so; quite so, Mr. Cromarty. We are acting together; exactly." "That's all the new evidence then?" Simon nodded, and a few moments of silence followed. "Tell me honestly," demanded Ned at last, "have you actually no clue at all? No suspicion of any kind? Haven't you got on the track of any possible reason for the deed?" "Reason?" repeated Simon. "Now we come to business, Mr. Cromarty. What's the motive? That's the point." "Have you found one?" Simon looked judicially discreet. "At this moment all I can tell you is to answer the question: 'Who benefits by Sir Reginald Cromarty's death?'" "Well--who did? Seems to me every one who knew him suffered." "Sentimentally perhaps--but not financially." Ned looked at him in silence, as if an entirely new point of view were dawning on his mind. But he compressed his lips and merely asked: