O’Connor walked across to the farther corner and wheeled the machine down to them. He pointed to both front and back tires. “There you are, sir! You can see for yourself!” Anthony went down on his haunches and smelt the tires. “Quite certain you didn’t pick it up yourself, O’Connor—on another part of the road, for instance?” “I’ll take my dyin’ oath I never did, sir. The day before the murder was discovered I went down into Assynton twice—once just before lunch time and the second time about a quarter-past four. I was extry careful about riding over the new road because I hates my bike all messed and mucked up, so I jumped off when I came to it and wheeled it along the path. As for pickin’ it up anywhere else, sir—there ain’t no other part of the road round here, sir, what’s bein’ done up.” His eyes flashed, and Anthony realized again that here stood the son of his father. “Do you always keep the machine in this shed?” he asked. Patrick O’Connor nodded an affirmative. “Always, sir!” Anthony threw a critical glance round the potting-shed. “When you came in yesterday morning and found your bicycle like that—was there anything else here that caught your attention—was the shed just as usual—everything in its place—nothing touched or disturbed?” O’Connor thought for a moment—then shook his head. “Not that I noticed, sir.” Anthony walked to the door and looked out; then he retraced his steps. “Re bicycles, O’Connor! Are there any other bicycles kept at Assynton Lodge—or is this the only one on the premises?” O’Connor flung his head back with decision. “This is the only cycle here, sir, so that whoever used it on the night of the murder either struck lucky or _knew that it was in here_.” He lowered his voice on the last few words. Peter saw Anthony’s face as O’Connor spoke—then he turned sharply. Maidment, arriving apparently from the clouds, was framed against the doorway of the potting-shed. His approach had been noiseless and unexpected, for even Bathurst seemed slightly taken off his guard! “Mr. Charles’s compliments,” announced the gardener, “and he will be glad to see you two gentlemen in the library.” CHAPTER XI With a Given Center, Mr. Bathurst Describes a Circle Stewart met them at the French doors. “Inspector Goodall and Sergeant Clegg are here already. We shall have to postpone our visit to the Museum Room till later. Come in, will you?” Clegg and Goodall had already got to work. “Nothing has been touched, sir,” said the former, “since I was first called in. Except for the removal of the dead man, the room is exactly as it was yesterday morning.” “Good,” replied Goodall. “I’ve read all your notes on the case—the key was in the lock on the inside when the door was burst open, and the bolts of the French doors were securely shot. Darned peculiar!”