Though the day’s work had prepared the man for some _dénoûment_, he certainly appeared to French to be genuinely amazed when the nature of the find was revealed. “Good Heavens! Inspector! What does this mean?” he cried, squaring his shoulders. “Whose are these and how did you know they were there?” French turned to the plain-clothes men. “Just wait outside the door, will you,” he said, then went on gravely to the other: “That is what I have to ask you, Colonel Domlio.” “Me?” The man’s sardonic calm was at last broken. “I know nothing about them. The thing is an absolute surprise to me. I swear it.” His face paled and he looked anxious and worried. “There is something I should tell you,” French continued. “On considering this Berlyn-Pyke case I formed a theory. I don’t say it is correct, but I formed it from the facts I had learnt. According to that theory you took out your car on the night of the tragedy, drove into Ashburton, picked up Mr. Pyke’s coat, waistcoat, trousers, shoes, and certain other things, brought them here and threw them into the well. A moment, please.” He raised his hand as Domlio would have spoken. “Rightly or wrongly, that was my theory. But there was a difficulty. You had stated to the sergeant that you had not gone out that night. I came here and found that that statement was not true. You had been out. Then I made further enquiries and learnt that you had taken out your car. You explained that, but I regret to say that I was unable to accept your explanation. I thought, however, that the presence or absence of these objects in the well would settle the matter. I looked at the well and saw that the cover had recently been moved. Two nights ago Sergeant Daw and I came out, and after trying with a line and fish-hooks, we drew up a coat—Pyke’s coat. Now, Colonel, if you wish to make a statement I will give it every consideration, but it is my duty again to warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence against you.” “What? Are you charging me with a crime?” “Unless you can satisfy me of your innocence you will be charged with complicity in the murder of Stanley Pyke.” The Colonel drew a deep breath. “But, good Heavens! How can I satisfy you? I don’t even know what you have against me, except this extraordinary business which I can make neither head nor tail of. You must know more about it than you have said. Tell me the rest.” “You tell me this: Was your statement about the loss of the locket on that night true?” Colonel Domlio did not reply. He seemed to be weighing some problem of overwhelming difficulty. French waited patiently, wondering how far his bluff would carry. At last the colonel spoke.