At that moment Juliet came into the room, and they talked of other things. "I hear the post is gone," Gimblet said presently. "I particularly wanted to catch it. I suppose there is no means of posting a letter now?" The last train had gone south by that time, however, so there was nothing to be done till the next day. He retired again to his room and gave himself up to his correspondence. First a long letter to Macross in Glasgow, begging for the loan of prints of the photographs taken by the police during their visit, together with any details they might see fit to impart as to their observations and conclusions. "I have arrived so late on the scene that you have left me nothing to do," he wrote deceitfully. "But for the interest of the case I should like to have a look at the photographs." He did not expect to get much help from Macross. Then he took from his pocket the pill-box in which he had stored the dust so carefully collected in the gunroom. He wrapped it carefully in paper, and addressed the small parcel to an expert analyst in Edinburgh. He wrote one more letter, and then went downstairs again. The dressing-bell sounded as he opened his door, and at the foot of the staircase he met the two ladies on their way to dress. "Dinner is at eight, Mr. Gimblet," Lady Ruth told him. "I was just coming to find you," Gimblet answered her. "I want to ask if you would mind my not coming down? I am subject to very bad headaches after a long journey; and, as I want particularly to be up early to-morrow, I think the best thing I can do is to go straight to bed and sleep it off. It is poor sort of behaviour for a detective, I am aware, but I hope you will forgive it." "You must certainly go to bed if you feel inclined to," said Lady Ruth; "but you will have some dinner in your room, will you not? They shall bring you up the menu." "No, really, thanks, I shall be better without anything. I know how to treat these heads of mine by now, I assure you, and I won't have anything to eat till to-morrow morning. The only thing I need is quiet and sleep. If you will be so very kind as to give orders that I shall not be disturbed...." "Of course, of course," said his hostess, full of concern. "And you must let me give you an excellent remedy for headaches. It was given me years ago by dear old Sir Ronald Tompkins, that famous specialist, you know, who always ordered every one to roll on the floor after meals, and I invariably keep a bottle by me." And she hurried off to fetch it. Gimblet accepted it gratefully, and as he passed a hand across his aching brow said he felt sure it would do him good.