"Well, no," Mrs. Steel confessed, placidly. "You see, I never had what people call nerves, my dear. And, after all, I saw nothing. Still, I am very, very sorry for that poor young man, and I have sent to inquire after him several times." "He is no worse or I should have heard of it." "No, and no better. And Inspector Marley has been here to see you twice to-day." David pitied himself as much as a man could pity himself considering his surroundings. It was rather annoying that this should have happened at a time when he was so busy. And Marley would have all sorts of questions to ask at all sorts of inconvenient seasons. Steel passed into his study presently and lighted a cigarette. Despite his determination to put the events of yesterday from his mind, he found himself constantly returning to them. What a splendid dramatic story they would make! And what a fascinating mystery could be woven round that gun-metal cigar-case! By the way, where was the cigar-case? On the whole it would be just as well to lock the case away till he could discover some reasonable excuse for its possession. His mother would be pretty sure to ask where it came from, and David could not prevaricate so far as she was concerned. But the cigar-case was not to be found, and David was forced to the conclusion that he had left it in Mossa's office. A little annoyed with himself he took up the evening _Argus_. There was half a column devoted to the strange case at Downend Terrace, and just over it a late advertisement to the effect that a gun-metal cigar-case had been found and was in the hands of the police awaiting an owner. David slipped from the house and caught a 'bus in St. George's Road. At the police-station he learnt that Inspector Marley was still on the premises. Marley came forward gravely. He had a few questions to ask, but nothing to tell. "And now perhaps you can give me some information?" David said, "You are advertising in to-night's _Argus_ a gun-metal cigar-case set with diamonds." "Ah," Marley said, eagerly, "can you tell us anything about it?" "Nothing beyond the fact that I hope to satisfy you that the case is mine." Marley stared open-mouthed at David for a moment, and then relapsed into his sapless official manner. He might have been a detective cross-examining a suspected criminal. "Why this mystery?" David asked. "I have lost a gun-metal cigar-case set with diamonds, and I see a similar article is noted as found by the police. I lost it this morning, and I shrewdly suspect that I left it behind me at the office of Mr. Mossa." "The case was sent here by Mr. Mossa himself," Marley admitted. "Then, of course, it is mine. I had to give Mr. Mossa my opinion of him this morning, and by way of spiting me he sent that case here, hoping, perhaps, that I should not recover it. You know the case Marley--it was lying on the floor of my conservatory last night." "I did notice a gun-metal case there," Marley said, cautiously.