Examination showed that a hole had been cut with a diamond in the window of the room where the jewels lay, the window opened, and the shutters forced from their hinges. The bureau must then have been opened by means of a chisel, or other blunt instrument, and the jewels stolen from their receptacle. Most probably it was at the moment the burglar was leaving the room with his booty that he was encountered by Hubert Stone; perhaps seized by him. How the probably unequal struggle had ended was but too terribly manifest. Apparently nothing in Hubert's pockets had been touched. His watch, chain, and leather purse were all there, but no letters or papers of any kind from which a clue might be obtained as to his recent movements, or to the place from whence he had come. "His watch has stopped at twenty minutes past two," observed Dr. Spreckley, who was making this examination with Mr. Inspector Wade. "And that may have been the time of the fatal occurrence, poor fellow. What's in here, I wonder?" The Doctor was opening the gold locket attached to the watch-chain, as he made the last remark. And it was as well, perhaps, all things considered, that the inspector did not hear it--that he had turned momentarily away. For inside the locket was a portrait of Miss Winter. Dr. Spreckley's eyes opened, in more ways than one. "Presuming rascal!" he involuntarily cried, apostrophising the unconscious dead. "My poor young man, you must have been more silly than I gave you credit for. I'll take possession of this, any way: no good to let the world see it," he decided, as he dexterously removed the likeness and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. "What's that?" asked the inspector, coming back. "Only this," said Dr. Spreckley, exhibiting the empty locket. That the person or persons who committed the robbery had also committed the murder, appeared perfectly conclusive to Inspector Wade; and so he informed Miss Winter, with whom he requested an interview. Of course she had herself drawn the same conclusion. He then asked Miss Winter whether she had the slightest suspicion with regard to the honesty of any of her servants. It was quite evident that the thieves must have had some acquaintance with the house, and knew the exact spot where to look for the jewels, and they had apparently made no attempt to obtain any other booty. Miss Winter replied, in most decisive terms, that she had not the slightest reason to suspect the honesty of any person about her. "But, indeed," she added, "it is impossible that any of the servants can be guilty. They were not even aware of the existence of the jewels, much less of the place where they were deposited. Those were facts known to no one save myself and Mrs. Toynbee." The chief-constable, who had a pencil in his hand, passed it once or twice thoughtfully across his lips.