"Because he'd been to the bank this morning to draw his pension money," replied Miss Pett. "I don't know how much that would be, any more than I know where it came from. He was a close man--he'd never tell anybody more than he liked, and he never told me aught about that. But I do know it was what you'd call a fair amount--for a man that lives in a cottage. He went to the bank this noon--he always went once a quarter--and he said this afternoon that he'd go and pay his rent to Mr. Cotherstone there--" "As he did," muttered Cotherstone, "yes--he did that." "Well, he'd have all the rest of his money on him," continued the housekeeper. "And he'd have what he had before, because he'd other money coming in than that pension. And I tell you he was the sort of man that carried his money about him--he was foolish that way. And then he'd a very valuable watch and chain--he told me they were a presentation, and cost nearly a hundred pounds. And of course, he'd a pocket-book full of papers." "This pocket-book?" asked the sergeant. "Aye, that's it, right enough," assented Miss Pett. "But he always had it bursting with bits of letters and papers. You don't mean to say you found it empty? You did?--very well then, I'm no fool, and I say that if he's been murdered, there's been some reason for it altogether apart from robbing him of what money and things he had on him! Whoever's taken his papers wanted 'em bad!" "About his habits, now?" said the sergeant, ignoring Miss Pett's suggestion. "Did he go walking on the Shawl every night?" "Regular as clock-work," answered the housekeeper. "He used to read and write a deal at night--then he'd side away all his books and papers, get his supper, and go out for an hour, walking round and about. Then he'd come in, put on his slippers--there they are, set down to warm for him--smoke one pipe, drink one glass of toddy--there's the stuff for it--and go to bed. He was the regularest man I ever knew, in all he did." "Was he out longer than usual tonight?" asked Bent, who saw that the sergeant had no more to ask. "You seemed to suggest that, when we came." "Well, he was a bit longer," admitted Miss Pett. "Of course, he varied. But an hour was about his time. Up and down and about the hill-side he'd go--in and out of the coppices. I've warned him more than once." "But why?" asked Brereton, whose curiosity was impelling him to take a part in this drama. "What reason had you for warning him?" Miss Pett turned and looked scrutinizingly at her last questioner. She took a calm and close observation of him and her curious face relaxed into something like a smile. "I can tell what you are, mister," she said. "A law gentleman! I've seen your sort many a time. And you're a sharp 'un, too! Well--you're young, but you're old enough to have heard a thing or two. Did you never hear that women have got what men haven't--instinct?"