The maid who opened the door looked a little surprised when she found herself confronted with the four men. “I think the Canon is engaged,” she began, “he has someone——” “Oh, he’s expecting us—one of us, at least,” said the Chief Constable. “I think he’ll see us. Who is with him?” “Mr. Norwood, sir.” “Very well, will you show us in, please? Except this gentleman—he will wait in the hall.” The Canon rose from his seat as the three policemen entered. Neither of them was in uniform. Major Renshaw, a punctilious man, wore evening dress. He always dressed for dinner. Francis Norwood, seated in an arm-chair near the fire, also rose when he saw Major Renshaw. The Canon held out his hand in greeting. “This is a surprise,” he said; “I hardly expected——” “You must forgive this intrusion, Canon,” interrupted the Chief Constable. “Sergeant Colson mentioned that he was going to see you this evening, and we’ve taken the liberty of coming with him.” As he spoke he did not take the Canon’s proffered hand. Instead, he bowed stiffly to him and Francis Norwood—who sat down once more. Indeed, the whole attitude of Major Renshaw savoured of officialism. The Canon apparently, noticed it. He stiffened slightly. “Won’t you sit down?” he asked. The Chief Constable and the superintendent took the chairs he offered near the middle of the room. Colson, who had one hand behind his back, sat down in a chair near the door. When he had done so, he stooped to lay down his hat and stick, which he placed on the floor, behind a sofa. “If I’m in the way, Fittleworth——” began Norwood. “Not at all,” broke in the Chief Constable; “don’t let us disturb you.” Canon Fittleworth sat down again, wiped his pince-nez with his handkerchief, and adjusted them on his nose, and said, addressing the Major: “Well now, Major, I don’t know the purpose of your visit, but can only presume you have some news to impart. Is it about my late cousin?” “Yes, it is—something you ought to know.” “In that case,” said the Canon, “Mr. Norwood will be interested too.” Norwood nodded his head slightly, and said in his judicial manner: “Naturally. My business with the unhappy affair ended, of course, with the verdict that was returned. But, as a private individual, I may be allowed some curiosity. Is there anything fresh, Major?” “There is,” said the Chief Constable, but addressing his remarks to the Canon as he spoke. “Detective-Sergeant Colson, as you know, has had the case in hand, and I’m going to ask you to let him tell you in his own way.” “Very well,” said the Canon to Colson, “we shall be pleased to hear you.” Colson’s face flushed slightly; he glanced round the room, and finally fixed his gaze on Canon Fittleworth. It was some moments before he began—the Chief Constable had even to say to him: “Go on, Colson.”