Mrs. Merry snorted. "That's another lie. I don't believe the brat has anything to do with Sunday schools, begging your pardon, Mr. Shakerley. He's a liar, and I don't believe his name's Butsey at all." "Well, well," said the coroner impatiently, "let us get on with the inquest. What further evidence have you, inspector?" "I have to speak," said Mr. Mask rising and looking more yellow and prim than ever as he took the oath. "I am Mr. Strode's legal adviser. He came to see me two or three times while he was in town. He stated that he was going down to Wargrove." "On what day did he say?" "On no particular day. He said he would be going down some time, but he was in no hurry." "Didn't he tell you he was going down on Thursday?" "No. He never named the day." "Had he any idea of meeting with a violent death?" "If he had, he certainly would not have come," said Mask grimly; "my late client had a very good idea of looking after his own skin. But he certainly hinted that he was in danger." "Explain yourself." "He said that if he couldn't come himself to see me again he would send his wooden hand." The coroner looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" "Mr. Strode," said Mask primly, "talked to me about some money he wished to place in my keeping. I was to give it back to him personally, or when he sent the wooden hand. I understood from what he hinted that there was a chance he might get into trouble. But he explained nothing. He always spoke little and to the point." "And have you got this money?" "No. Mr. Strode didn't leave it with me." "Then why did he remark about his wooden hand?" "I expect he intended to leave the money with me when he returned from Wargrove. So it would seem that he did not expect anything to happen to him on his visit to his native place. If he had expected a tragedy, he would have left the money; and the wooden hand would have been the token for me to give it." "To whom, sir?" "To the person who brought the wooden hand." "And has it been brought?" "No. But I understand from Inspector Garrit that the hand has been stolen." "Dear me--dear me." Mr. Shakerley rubbed his bald head irritably. "This case is most perplexing. Who stole the hand?" Mr. Hill came forward at this point and related how he had gone into the death chamber to find the hand gone. Eva detailed how she had seen the hand still attached to the arm at dawn, and Mrs. Merry deposed that she saw the hand with the body at nine o'clock. These witnesses were exhaustively examined, but nothing further could be learned. Mr. Strode had been shot through the heart, and the wooden hand had been stolen. But who had shot him, or who had stolen the hand, could not be discovered.