‘Yes, yes, quite possible,’ he said. ‘But we ought to make sure. Run round, Innes, will you, in the car and find out.’ ‘Will you see Smith, sir?’ asked the butler when Innes had gone. Austin seemed to awake out of a reverie. ‘Yes—oh yes, I suppose so,’ he answered. ‘Yes certainly. Bring him in.’ A small, stout man, with a short brown beard stepped up. He was, he explained, boatman as well as under-gardener, and it was his custom each morning to visit the boathouse, give the boats a run over with a cloth, brush the cushions, and leave everything ready in case a boat might be required during the day. On this morning he had reached the boathouse as usual, and was surprised to find the door unlocked. Entering, he had at once noticed that the water gate connecting the basin in the house with the river was fully open, and then he saw that the _Alice_, the smallest of the skiffs, was missing. A glance at the rack had shown that the oars and rowlocks had also gone. He had looked round generally, but could not find any other trace of disturbance. He had immediately come up to the house to inform Sir William. Austin Ponson had listened carefully to the man’s statement, and he now asked a question: ‘You say you were surprised to find the boathouse door unlocked. I have been at the boathouse scores of times, and I never knew it to be locked. Why should it have been locked then?’ ‘I lock it, sir,’ the man replied, ‘every night at dusk. Every morning I open it, and it stays open through the day.’ ‘And did you lock it last night?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘About what time?’ ‘About 8.00 or 8.30, I should think.’ ‘Who else has a key?’ ‘No one but Sir William, sir.’ Austin turned to the butler. ‘Do you know where he keeps this key?’ ‘In the drawer of his writing table, sir.’ ‘See if you can find it now.’ In a few moments Parkes returned. Several keys, each attached to its neatly lettered block of wood, were in the drawer, but that of the boathouse door was missing. ‘That will do, thank you, Smith,’ Austin went on, then, when the man had withdrawn, he turned to the butler. He still seemed nervous and upset. ‘It seems pretty clear Sir William has gone out on the river; now what on earth would he do that for? I wish that man would come back from the doctor’s.’ ‘He won’t be long, sir. Say ten minutes there and ten back, and five to make inquiries. He should be here in five or six minutes.’ In about that time Innes returned. Sir William had not called at Dr Graham’s. Austin and Parkes exchanged troubled glances. The same terrible idea which had been in their minds since the discovery of the missing boat was forcing itself to the front.