And Police Constable Farrow, who had approached unnoticed, held out an object which seemed to be a rifle. Owing to his being seated Furneaux's eyes were on a level with it, and he could see more clearly than the others. He struck a match; then there could be no doubt that the policeman had actually picked up the weapon which had set in motion so many and such varied vicissitudes. But Farrow had more to say. It had been his happy lot during many hours to figure bravely in the Fenley case, and he carried himself as a valiant man and true to the end. "I think I heard you mention Mr. Hilton," he went on. "I met Dr. Stern in the village, an' he tol' me Mr. Hilton had borrowed his car." Furneaux stood up. "Continue, Solomon," he said, and Winter sighed with relief; the little man was himself again. "That's all, gentlemen, or practically all. It struck me as unusual, but Dr. Stern said Mr. Hilton's motor was out o' gear, an' he wanted a car in a desp'rit hurry." "He did, indeed!" growled Furneaux. "You're quite sure there is no mistake?" "Mistake, sir? How could there be? The doctor was walkin' home. That's an unusual thing. He never walks a yard if he can help it. Mr. Hilton borrowed the car to go to St. Albans." "Did he, indeed? Just how did he come to find the car waiting for him?" "Oh, that's the queer part of it. Dr. Stern is lookin' after poor old Joe Bland, who's mighty bad with--there, now, if I haven't gone and forgotten the name; something-itis--and Mr. Hilton must have seen the car standin' outside Bland's house. But what was he doin' in Roxton at arf past twelve? That's wot beats me. And then, just fancy me stubbin' my toe against this!" Again he displayed the rifle as if it were an exhibit and he were giving evidence. "Let's go inside and get a light," said Winter, and the four mounted the steps into the hall. Robert Fenley was there--red-faced as ever, for he had helped in putting out the fire, but quite sober, since he had been very sick. Some lamps and candles gave a fair amount of light, and Robert eyed Trenholme viciously. "So it was you!" he said. "I thought it was. Well, my father and mother are both dead, and this is no time for settlin' matters; but I'll look you up when this business is all over." "If you do, you'll get hurt," said Winter brusquely. "Is that your rifle?" and he pointed to the weapon in Farrow's hands. "Yes. Where was it found?" "In the Quarry Wood, sir, but a'most in the park," said the policeman. "Has it been used recently?" Fenley could hardly have put a question better calculated to prove his own innocence of any complicity in the crime. Winter took the gun, meaning to open the breech, but he and Furneaux simultaneously noticed a bit of black thread tied to one of the triggers. It had been broken, and the two loose ends were some inches in length.