“Oh!” he said. “Ah! Oh, very well: if you’re putting it that way, I’ve no more to say, except that Crewe and I will put our heads together on behalf of the family. We’re not at all satisfied with you police—you’re not going on the right track. Why don’t you recognize once and for all that the real reason for Guy Markenmore’s murder was money!—money in some fashion or another—money!” With another emphatic repetition of his last word he swung round and left the room. CHAPTER XXIII THE PROFESSORIAL THEORY The Chief Constable looked at Blick when Chilford walked out: his eyes assumed a somewhat blank and doubtful expression. “What on earth does he mean by all that?” he exclaimed. “That something to do with money is at the bottom of it,” said Blick. “And after all, there’s the three thousand pounds’ worth of bank-notes to account for! There doesn’t seem any doubt that Guy Markenmore had these notes on him when he left the Sceptre, and he certainly hadn’t them when we examined his clothing. Where are they? Obviously, the murderer helped himself to them.” The Chief Constable reflected awhile. “The queer thing, to my way of thinking,” he observed at last, “is this: if the murder was committed for the sake of robbery, how comes it that the murderer didn’t possess himself of all the rest of the stuff Guy Markenmore had on him? Money, a fair lot, I think; valuables, gold watch and chain; and so on. There was a very valuable diamond ring, wasn’t there?” “The odd thing is that another ring—the duplicate of that which Mrs. Tretheroe wears—was gone,” said Blick. “Gone!—a comparatively valueless thing, merely a curiosity, while a diamond ring, worth a great deal, was left on the very same finger! But what’s the use of theorizing? The facts are as they are! If there’s nothing whatever in what we’ll call the Mrs. Braxfield line—well, I’m still without any real clue!” “Chilford says—money!—money!—money!” remarked the Chief Constable. “I wish we knew more of Guy Markenmore’s money affairs! But talking of money, I shouldn’t wonder if that dodge of Mother Braxfield’s mayn’t have something in it. I know village people pretty well by now! What she said is quite true—there’s scarce a soul amongst ’em that wouldn’t sell his own mother for a five-pound note! Bit exaggerated, of course, that!—but it’s sound in principle.” Blick looked doubtful and surprised. “Do you mean to say that, supposing there are people in Markenmore who really do know something about this affair, they’ve kept silence up to now?” he asked. “I don’t mean people who might be incriminated by confession or revelation, but people who are in possession of information and simply won’t give it?”