"Of course," said George. "Of course. Most remiss of us not to have thought of it before." He looked towards Bill. "Get Dr. Cartwright on the telephone. Ask him to come. Just hint, if you can, that--er--discretion should be observed." Bill went off on his errand. "I will come up with you, Digby," said George. "Something, possibly, could be done--measures should, perhaps, be taken--whilst awaiting the arrival of the doctor." He looked rather helplessly at Rupert Bateman. Efficiency always makes itself felt. It was Pongo who was really in charge of the situation. "Shall I come up with you, sir?" George accepted the offer with relief. Here, he felt, was someone on whom he could lean. He experienced that sense of complete trust in Mr. Bateman's efficiency which came to all those who encountered that excellent young man. The three men left the room together. Lady Coote, murmuring in deep rich tones: "The poor young fellow. Perhaps I could do something--" hurried after them. "That's a very motherly woman," observed the Superintendent thoughtfully. "A very motherly woman. I wonder--" Three pairs of eyes looked at him inquiringly. "I was wondering," said Superintendent Battle slowly, "where Sir Oswald Coote may be." "Oh!" gasped Loraine. "Do you think he's been murdered?" Battle shook his head at her reproachfully. "No need for anything so melodramatic," he said. "No--I rather think--" He paused, his head on one side, listening--one large hand raised to enjoin silence. In another minute they all heard what his sharper ears had been the first to notice--footsteps coming along the terrace outside. They rang out clearly with no kind of subterfuge about them. In another minute the window was blocked by a bulky figure which stood there regarding them and who conveyed, in an odd way, a sense of dominating the situation. Sir Oswald, for it was he, looked slowly from one face to another. His keen eyes took in the details of the situation. Jimmy, with his roughly bandaged arm; Bundle, in her somewhat anomalous attire; Loraine, a perfect stranger to him. His eyes came last to Superintendent Battle. He spoke sharply and crisply: "What's been happening here, officer?" "Attempted robbery, sir." "_Attempted_--eh?" "Thanks to this young lady, Miss Wade, the thieves failed to get away with it." "Ah!" he said again, his scrutiny ended. "And now, officer, what about _this_?" He held out a small Mauser pistol which he carried delicately by the butt. "Where did you find that, Sir Oswald?" "On the lawn outside. I presume it must have been thrown down by one of the thieves as he took to his heels. I've held it carefully, as I thought you might wish to examine it for fingerprints." "You think of everything, Sir Oswald," said Battle. He took the pistol from the other, handling it with equal care, and laid it down on the table beside Jimmy's Colt. "And now, if you please," said Sir Oswald, "I should like to hear exactly what occurred."