"Only the time," returned his visitor. "It's just gone eight, and as we're expecting Mr. Medwin at nine I thought I'd better give you a knock-up." With rather a rueful laugh Colin threw back the clothes. "How about breakfast?" he inquired. "Have you made any arrangements?" "The cook's on the job," was the encouraging answer. "I was careful to keep on the right side of her last night, and she's promised us a dish of eggs and bacon at a quarter past." "I'll be there," said Colin, thrusting a leg over the side. "How did you and the sergeant get on after I'd gone to bed?" "Well, we haven't altogether wasted our time," said Marsden, turning toward the door. "I won't hang about in your way now, however. You shall have the news--such as it is--while we're waiting for the solicitor." He disappeared with a friendly nod, and, after indulging in a cold tub and a somewhat hasty toilet, Colin followed him downstairs to the dining room. His arrival synchronized almost exactly with that of Mrs. Ramsay, who appeared from the kitchen carrying a well-laden tray. She arranged the contents on the breakfast table, which was already set out, at the same time expressing an apologetic hope that if there were any shortcomings they might be attributed to the natural agitation of herself and the cook. She then retired, and with an air of businesslike alacrity the two detectives drew up their chairs. "This will just suit my complaint," observed Marsden, uncovering the eggs and bacon. "I was never a believer in working on an empty stomach, and I reckon Humphries here is pretty much of the same opinion." "There were some sandwiches and whisky on the sideboard last night," said Colin. "I ought to have told you before I went to bed." "Oh, we found them all right," returned Marsden with a smile. "And, for the matter of that, some very excellent cigars, too." He helped his companions to a generous portion each, and transferred the remainder to his own plate. "I only wish," he added grimly, "that we'd been equally successful in our professional discoveries." "Have you any clue at all?" asked Colin. "Depends on what you call a clue," was the answer. "I can tell you one thing for a certainty. Whoever broke into the house was an old hand at the game, and, what's more, a chap who knew his job from A to Z." "Why do you think that?" "Well, you're not likely to find an amateur burglar who can cut out a pane of glass without making a sound, nor yet one who wears gloves so as to hide his finger prints. Besides, no one but an expert cracksman could possibly have forced the lock of the safe." "I didn't know it was forced," said Colin. "One bolt had gone, anyhow; and a very neat bit of work it was, too, eh, Humphries?" The sergeant, whose mouth was full, confined himself to an affirmative grunt. "That rather knocks the bottom out of my theory," said Colin, after a short pause.