“One little point, Mr. Linnell, before you proceed any farther. Why did Mr. Stewart select your firm to carry out this commission? Any idea?” “He explained that in his letter. He said he had been told of us by a very respected and esteemed client of ours—a Colonel Leach-Fletcher.” “Was that true?” demanded Goodall. “Colonel Leach-Fletcher is a client of ours—certainly—I can say nothing as to the alleged recommendation. You can see the letter with the telegram.” “I will. Anything else?” “Not very much. The telegram reassured me—Mr. Daventry, my partner, came and had a look over here yesterday—and I had come with similar purpose this morning—only to find this trouble.” “How did you know, Mr. Linnell?”—Goodall’s voice sounded very distinctly, almost as though he were launching an accusation—“that these three particular objects had been stolen? It seems to me——” “I didn’t,” replied Linnell in an almost aggrieved manner. “I thought you understood that when I entered. I had no knowledge of it whatever. I only obeyed my instincts.” “H’m,” grunted the Inspector. “Yes, Doctor?” This last remark was addressed to a gentleman who had come authoritatively down the room. “The poor fellow’s quite dead, of course. Been dead, I should say, about eight hours when I examined him. Four particularly savage blows on the skull I think—part of the brain actually protruding—whoever did it—meant doing it.” “Struck from behind, do you think, Doctor?” queried Goodall. “Very probably—the parietal bone is badly smashed.” Goodall turned to Day. “What time did this night-watchman come on duty, Mr. Day?” “At midnight, Inspector! The first watchman is on duty from six o’clock—when we close—till twelve, when poor Mason relieved him. I’ve sent for Druce—that’s the other watchman—he should be along here in a few moments.” “Well, this poor fellow in the other room can’t tell us anything—so we shall have to rely on Druce. I hope he will be of some help.” “Was he found dead in this room, Inspector?” asked Linnell—“or——” “Just over there”—pointed Goodall to a spot about a dozen yards away—“right in front of the handrail. Doctor Archer examined him first down there—then we had him taken into Mr. Day’s private office.” “Where the rug is?” interrogated Linnell. He looked at the rug on the floor. “That’s it,” answered Goodall. “There’s a nasty mess underneath—that’s why the rug’s there!” “How did they get in and out?” “Well, Mr. Linnell—as to that—they got out with the night-watchman’s keys—we can’t find them anywhere—how they got in is a matter of conjecture—that’s what I want to see this other watchman, Druce, about.” “But I presume you’ve formed some conclusions? There must be some——”