“I’m not driving at anything, Peter. I’m just giving you some information. When I arrived at the show-rooms this morning I had rather a ‘jolt.’ The police were there—the Galleries had been robbed during the night—and what is even more dreadful than that, a night-watchman employed there had been brutally murdered.” Peter gasped. “Good Lord! My telephone message to you must have been a shock.” “It was! I could hardly believe my ears! I decided not to say anything to you over the ’phone but to come back here.” Peter thrust his hands into his trousers-pockets. “Funny thing—we seem in it both ends—don’t we? The whole thing is very queer. Both here and in Berkshire.” Linnell shook his head. “Not really. We just happened to be in at the Galleries end because Stewart sent us there—but I haven’t finished yet.” Peter uttered a cry of amazement. “Don’t say there are any more——” Linnell cut into his remarks. “I told you the Galleries had been robbed during the night. I didn’t tell you what had actually been stolen. As far as the police could tell when I left them, the only three things that had been taken were _the very three that Stewart commissioned us to buy_!” He paused and walked to the window. Then turned and confronted Peter. “What do you make of that? Extraordinary, isn’t it? To say the least!” Peter whistled softly. “I said we seemed to be well in it. I feel sure now. And what’s more, Linnell, I’ve got a feeling we haven’t heard or seen the last of it either, by a long way. You mark my words.” Linnell smiled. “I agree with you! As a matter of fact, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Detective-Inspector Goodall hasn’t already got a certain Peter Daventry on his list of ‘suspects.’ I hope your alibi’s good.” “What on earth are you gibbering about?” demanded Peter. “And who the hell’s Detective-Inspector Goodall?” “I’m not gibbering, my dear fellow. Detective-Inspector Goodall is the gentleman from Scotland Yard that is investigating the Galleries murder, and he has, of course, been informed of your interest in the Stuart relics and of your call there yesterday. Young Forshaw told him. Then there was my call to-day—I got in ‘at the death’ as you might say—I could see he thought it was damned suspicious conduct—all of it—I explained our connection with the affair——” “You told him of Stewart’s commission? Was that wise? Yet awhile?” “I think so, Peter! My professional experience has taught me the value of frankness and truth—even as a solicitor—that is why I never entered Parliament.” “But why suspect _me_?” reiterated Peter. “Is every intending purchaser on the——?” “The police _must_ suspect _somebody_. Why not flatter yourself at their attention? But tell me all you’ve heard about the Berkshire end of the tangle.”