“Or—who’ll admit that they did!” sneered Chilford. “He must have gone somewhere, and seen somebody.” He pulled out his watch. “I’m going home to lunch,” he said. “This is waste of time. My advice to Blick is—go back on your tracks and get to work at the fountain-head—in London!” “What’s Blick say?” asked the barrister with a laugh. He had steadily smoked cigarettes in silence while the others had talked. “Come, Blick?” “Blick is a wise young man,” said the Chief Constable. “He’s going to say nothing. You’ll take your own line, eh, Blick?” “As at present advised,” answered Blick, with a smile. “Always ready to hear anything in the way of suggestion though.” “Come along,” said Chilford, “it’s two o’clock. Glad to give any of you—all of you—some lunch if you’ll come with me. Cold food—but plenty of it.” The men trooped out into the hall. And there, coming from the morning-room, they saw Harry Markenmore and Valencia. Harry came up to the group and nodded at Blick. “My sister wants to ask Sergeant Blick a question,” he said, turning to the Chief Constable. “Something about my late brother’s personal effects.” Blick turned to Valencia; the other men paused, interested and attentive. Valencia looked at the detective with something of anxiety. “It was you, wasn’t it, who examined my brother Guy’s clothing and what he had on him?” she asked. “You mentioned a lot of things in the witness-box this morning. Did you mention everything?” “Everything—yes,” replied Blick. “Every single thing that you found?” “Every single thing!” Valencia’s eyes grew more troubled. She looked round at the attentive faces. “There—there was something that you didn’t mention that my brother certainly had on him when he went out of this house on Monday night at half-past ten,” she said, turning again to Blick. “A ring!—a ring of very curious workmanship, on the third finger of his right hand.” “He had one ring on the third finger of his right hand,” said Blick. “A very fine diamond ring—a single stone.” “He had two rings on the third finger of his right hand,” asserted Valencia. “The diamond ring you speak of, and this other one. I spoke of it to him while he was here. It was a ring of very odd appearance—it looked to me like copper, with some enamel work on it. It attracted my attention because—because I know some one who has a ring exactly like it—its duplicate, in fact.” “Yes?” said Blick quietly. “Who?” “Mrs. Tretheroe,” replied Valencia. The men standing by glanced at each other. “You are sure your brother was wearing this second, odd-looking ring when he left you?” asked Blick. “I am certain of it,” affirmed Valencia. “Absolutely!” “And you say that Mrs. Tretheroe has a similar ring?” “Which she always wears,” said Valencia. “There was no such ring on your brother’s finger when I made my examination,” remarked Blick. “But now—I’ll see into the matter.”