The local police had evidently gone through the man's pockets for evidence of identification, but finding none, had replaced the articles in the pockets just as they had found them. Therefore, Raife did the same, in order that the London detectives might be able to make full investigation. The only thing he kept was the scrap torn from the _Morning Post_. He turned the body over to get at the hip-pocket of the trousers, when from it he at length drew a bundle of soft black material, which, when opened, he found to be a capacious sack of thin black silk, evidently for the purpose of conveying away stolen property. This he also replaced, and when, on turning the body into its original position, the shirt became further dragged open at the throat he noticed around it something that had probably been overlooked by the local constable who had opened the dead man's clothes in an endeavour to discover traces of life--a very fine silver chain. Suspended from the chain was a tiny little ancient Egyptian charm, in the form of a statuette of the goddess Isis, wearing on her head the royal sign, the orb of the sun, supported by cobras on either side. He removed it from the neck of the unknown, and, holding it in his palm, examined it. The modelling was perfect as a work of ancient art. It was cut in camelian about an inch and a quarter long, and, no doubt, five or six thousand years old. Up the back, from head to foot, were inscribed tiny Egyptian hieroglyphics, the circle of the sun, the feather, the sign of truth, a man kneeling in the act of adoration, a beetle and an ibis, the meaning of which were only intelligible to an Egyptologist. "He wore this as a talisman, no doubt," remarked Raife, speaking to himself. "Perhaps it may serve as a clue to his identity. Who knows?" And, gathering the little goddess and its chain into his palm, he transferred it to his pocket. Just as he did so, voices sounded outside the cottage. Edgson, with three men in overcoats and bowler hats were coming up the garden path. They entered the room without ceremony, and old Edgson, who accompanied them, said: "These are the gentlemen from London, Master Raife." Two of the men respectfully saluted the young baronet--for he had now succeeded to the title--while the third, Raife recognised as Inspector Caldwell from Tunbridge Wells. "Well, Caldwell," he said. "This is a very sad business for us." "Very sad, indeed, sir," was the dark-bearded man's reply. "We all sympathise with you and her ladyship very deeply, sir. Sir Henry was highly respected everywhere, sir, and there wasn't a more just, and yet considerate, magistrate on any county bench in England." "Is that the popular opinion?" asked Raife, thoughtfully. "Yes, sir. That's what everybody says. The awful news has created the greatest sensation in Tunbridge Wells. I wonder who this blackguardly individual is?" he added.