“He is,” agreed Anthony. “I’m just going to see him now. Walk to the gate with me, will you? I want you to help me.” “My dear chap, with pleasure!” He put his arm through Anthony’s as they walked. “I want to know,” said Anthony, as they reached the end of the house, “whether any one in any way connected with the household does any playing about with carpenter’s tools. Amateurs, professionals, or both.” “Funny you should ask that, Gethryn? I’ve been thinking about that. But it’s no help. You see, the place is full of ’em—carpenters, I mean. There’s Diggle, the gardener, he’s really an excellent rough-job man. Then there’s the chauffeur, he made that shed over there—and a splendid bit of work it is. And John, well, it was his one hobby as it is mine. You know that set of three small tables in the drawing-room?” “I did notice them. They puzzled me rather. Couldn’t place ’em.” “John made those,” said Sir Arthur, with a touch of pride, “nearly twenty years ago. I remember I was very jealous at the time. I couldn’t ever have done anything so good, you see. I was a bit better than he at the finer sorts of work, though.” He broke off, seeming to fall into a reverie. After a while he added: “No, Gethryn, I’m afraid this line’s no good to us. That wood-rasp doesn’t belong to Abbotshall.” “You’re sure?” Anthony asked. “Well, it isn’t mine, it didn’t belong to John, it isn’t Diggle’s—he was questioned by the police, you know—and it certainly isn’t the chauffeur’s.” “Humph!” Anthony seemed annoyed. They walked on to the gate in silence. Anthony nodded an adieu and set off down the white, dusty road with his long horseman’s stride. Chapter XV. Anthony’s Busy Day 1 He covered the distance to the village in a time creditable for so hot a day. As he passed the Bear and Key, a knot of men stopped their conversation to eye him with thirsty interest. He smelt reporter and passed by, giving silent thanks to the efficiency of Boyd. Now that the case seemed, to the public at least, as good as over, there was no real danger; but had the news-hungry hordes been let loose at first to overrun Abbotshall, Heaven alone knew how impossible things would have been. For the case of the murdered minister had seized violently on public imagination. It was so like, so very like, the books the public had read yesterday, were reading to-day, and would read to-morrow and to-morrow. Great Britain (and Ireland) was divided now into two camps—pro and anti-Deacon. The antis had a vast majority. Many of them held that to waste time on a trial which would be purely formal was disgraceful. The wretch, they said, should be hanged at once. Not a few were convinced that hanging was too merciful. It was all very funny, really, thought Anthony, and wished he could laugh. But whenever he tried to realise how funny it was, he thought of Deacon, and then found that it wasn’t funny at all, but rather terrible.