"We shall see. This man, whom I shall call the unknown for the reason that he has not yet been identified, was found dead, murdered in a greenhouse at Streatham. He had been strangled by means of a hair rope twisted about his neck and pulled tight with great force from behind." "That you are perfectly sure of?" Frobisher said with a suggestion of a grin. "At any rate, it will serve for a theory at present. In that greenhouse, upon the authority of Thomas Silverthorne, was a valuable orchid which had been placed there by a stranger some time before. After the murder of the unknown that orchid had absolutely disappeared." "Very strange," Frobisher said indifferently, "but of no particular interest to me." "Perhaps we shall make it more interesting presently," Counsel retorted. "We are inclined to believe that two people were after the orchid—the man who was killed and the man who killed him and took the orchid away. The plant must have been singularly valuable and possibly unique in its way to induce a crime like this. The whole thing is very strange and singular, and it is rendered more so by the fact that a precisely similar crime was committed in your conservatory the same night. You have valuable orchids, Sir Clement?" Frobisher nodded. He was not quite so cool now, and an irritating lump was working at the back of his throat. His quick mind began to see what was behind these apparently innocent questions. "I have probably the finest collection in England," he replied. "Many of them would tempt a thief, I suppose?" "Well, I dare say. There are orchid collectors all over the world, you see. Once a man gets hold of that passion it seldom leaves him. A valuable stolen orchid would be a marketable commodity." "The same as stolen books or prints, eh? The commercial morality of all collectors is supposed to be low. What you mean to say is that an orchid of repute would be bought by some collectors well knowing that it had been obtained by questionable means?" "I’ve no doubt about it," Frobisher admitted. "I have known such cases." "Then here we have a motive for the crime. Let me refer to your own case for a moment. What do you suppose Mr. Manfred was doing in your conservatory at the time he died? He refused to dine under plea of a headache; he was supposed to be lying down, and yet he was found dead near your flowers. Do you think he was after one of them?" "The inference is a fair one," Frobisher said, guardedly. Counsel smiled as he stroked his moustache. He was getting to the point now. "Did you or do you suspect Mr. Manfred was after a particular plant?" he asked.