“No. Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman,” added Cayley. “Perhaps what might seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of the world.” “I daresay, Mr. Cayley,” smiled the Inspector. “Anyhow, it was more convenient to have him in Australia?” “Yes.” “Mark Ablett never talked about him?” “Hardly ever. He was very much ashamed of him, and—well, very glad he was in Australia.” “Did he write Mark sometimes?” “Occasionally. Perhaps three or four times in the last five years.” “Asking for money?” “Something of the sort. I don’t think Mark always answered them. As far as I know, he never sent any money.” “Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley. Do you think that Mark was unfair to his brother? Unduly hard on him?” “They’d never liked each other as boys. There was never any affection between them. I don’t know whose fault it was in the first place—if anybody’s.” “Still, Mark might have given him a hand?” “I understand,” said Cayley, “that Robert spent his whole life asking for hands.” The inspector nodded. “I know that sort. Well, now, we’ll go on to this morning. This letter that Mark got—did you see it?” “Not at the time. He showed it to me afterwards.” “Any address?” “No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper.” “Where is it now?” “I don’t know. In Mark’s pocket, I expect.” “Ah!” He pulled at his beard. “Well, we’ll come to that. Can you remember what it said?” “As far as I remember, something like this: ‘Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I hope, your pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.’” “Ah!” The inspector copied it down carefully. “Did you notice the postmark?” “London.” “And what was Mark’s attitude?” “Annoyance, disgust—” Cayley hesitated. “Apprehension?” “N-no, not exactly. Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant interview, not of any unpleasant outcome for himself.” “You mean that he wasn’t afraid of violence, or blackmail, or anything of that sort?” “He didn’t appear to be.” “Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three o’clock?” “Yes, about that.” “Who was in the house then?” “Mark and myself, and some of the servants. I don’t know which. Of course, you will ask them directly, no doubt.” “With your permission. No guests?” “They were out all day playing golf,” explained Cayley. “Oh, by the way,” he put in, “if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to see them at all? It isn’t very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I suggested—” he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him. “I understand that they want to go back to London this evening. There’s no objection to that, I suppose?” “You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to communicate with them?” “Of course. One of them is staying on, if you would like to see him later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed the hall.”