"I don't see that, sir," she said. "I don't know why Mr. Hilton wanted a fire last night. It was quite hot. I slept with my window wide open." "A very healthy habit, too. Do you attend to Mr. Robert's suite?" "Yes, sir." "Does _he_ have a fire?" "Never in the summer, sir." "He's a warmer-blooded creature than Mr. Hilton, I fancy." "I expect so, sir." "Well, now, there's nothing here. But we detectives have to nose around everywhere. I'm sure you are terribly upset by your master's death. Everybody gives him a good word." "Indeed, he deserved it, sir. We all liked him. He was strict but very generous." Furneaux chatted with her while they descended the stairs and traversed devious passages till the butler's room was gained. By that time the housemaid was convinced that Mr. Furneaux was "a very nice man." When she "did" Hilton Fenley's rooms she missed the glass, but gave no heed to its absence. Who would bother about a glass in a house where murder had been done? She simply replaced it by another of the same pattern. "May I inquire, sir," said Tomlinson, when Furneaux had washed face and hands and was seated at a table laid for two, "may I inquire if you have any preference as to a luncheon wine?" "I think," said Furneaux with due solemnity, "that a still wine----" "I agree with you, sir. At this time of the day a Sauterne or a Johannisberger----" "To my taste, a Chateau Yquem, with that delicate flavor which leaves the palate fresh--Frenchmen call it the _seve_----" "Sir, I perceive that you have a taste. Singularly enough, I have a bottle of Chateau Yquem in my sideboard." So the meal was a success. An under gardener lent Furneaux a bicycle. After a chat with Farrow, to whom he conveyed some sandwiches and a bottle of beer, the detective rode to Easton. He sent a rather long telegram to his own quarters, called at a chemist's, and reached the White Horse at Roxton about two o'clock. * * * * * Now the imp of mischance had contrived that John Trenholme should hear no word of the murder until he came downstairs for luncheon after a morning's steady work. The stout Eliza, fearful lest Mary should forestall her with the news, bounced out from the kitchen when his step sounded on the stairs. "There was fine goin's on in the park this morning, Mr. Trenholme," she began breathlessly. He reddened at once, and avoided her fiery eye. Of course, it had been discovered that he had watched that girl bathing. Dash it all, his action was unintentional! What a bore!