Goodall’s face again registered surprise. “You seem remarkably well informed, Mr. Bathurst——” Anthony raised an explanatory hand. “Mr. Daventry has posted me pretty soundly, thank you. He interviewed me this afternoon. I understand the main facts of the case are these.” He gave a brief but explicit resumé of the affair as it had been presented to him. “That’s about all, I fancy, Inspector?” He looked at Goodall for corroboration. Now Goodall could have supplemented Bathurst’s information with one or two additional facts, which was precisely what Mr. Bathurst intended should happen. But the Inspector was not yet quite certain of his bearings and Mr. Bathurst’s exposition of the facts had been sufficiently masterly to prompt him to refrain. He gave Bathurst a confirmatory nod and said nothing. “At any rate,” proceeded Anthony—“we are fortunate in one respect—that is to say from the standpoint of investigation. With regard to the first murder we do know the motive.” “The first murder?” queried Goodall. “Which of the two was that—I should be pleased to know?” Anthony smiled. “I was not referring to the order in which the two men were murdered—although I appreciate your point. At the moment I don’t know when Stewart was killed. All I know is that he was found dead this morning. By the term ‘the first murder’ I meant the murder of Mason, the night-watchman. It was the first of which I heard. It was the first of which you heard. It happened in London, where we live. Cigarette, Inspector? You, Daventry?” They accepted his invitation—Goodall a little nettled. He had provoked an encounter and chosen his weapons, but had not been brilliantly successful. But he had the sense to accept what Anthony had said. “Quite right, Mr. Bathurst. I just wanted to make sure. I rather believe in making sure, you know—I tested _your_ alibi, by the way, Mr. Daventry, this afternoon.” Peter grinned. “Well—and how was it? I’ll guarantee you couldn’t shake it.” “I’m not going to arrest you—sit still!” He leaned over to Bathurst with his elbows on his knees. “You reckon then we know the motive for the Hanover Galleries job?” “Well, it’s pretty plain, I should say. Possession of the Stuart antiques—robbery! Which makes it a clean-cut case! This end we aren’t so well off.” He looked at Goodall with that humorous twist to his mouth that his friends knew so well. When they saw it they knew that things were running pretty smoothly. “To know the motive of any crime gives you a flying start, Inspector.” He tossed his cigarette end through the window.