"Certainly," replied Mrs Howard, and she led me upstairs to the apartment over the drawing-room, which I had come to Lydford for the purpose of examining. It was a large, airy, and well-furnished room, with a big book-case at one end and a canary in a cage at the window. Without much difficulty she discovered the small black japanned box, containing various surgical drugs and bandages, and I at once sent her down to obtain a small bowl of warm water. Then, the instant she had gone, I sought for the cupboard indicated by the dead man's letter. Yes, it was there, a long, narrow cupboard beside the fireplace, secured by two large locks of a complicated character such as one finds on safe or strongroom doors. I bent and examined them thoroughly. The bed, I noticed, was set so that the eyes of any one lying in it would be upon that door. What secret could be concealed there? What had the dead man suspected? Ay, what indeed? CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. "A FOREIGNER." I remained a long time attending to my damaged finger--which in reality had been injured a week before--at the same time thoroughly investigating the missing man's apartment. Except for the cupboard, secured so mysteriously by those combination locks, there was nothing extraordinary about it. The outlook was pleasant across the wide undulating park, and the chairs with soft cushions and couch showed plainly that Harvey Shaw loved to take his ease. In no hurry to depart, I chatted affably to Mrs Howard, wandering about the big, old-fashioned home, into regions I had never been before. "Poor Mr Nicholson used to stay here sometimes, didn't he?" I inquired presently, in a casual way. "Oh yes, sir, the master used to delight in having the poor young gentleman here, sir. He used to have the blue room, nearly opposite Mr Shaw's--the one which looks out over the front drive. Poor Mr Nicholson! We all liked him so much. Wasn't it sad, sir?" "Very sad, indeed," I said. "The blow must nearly have broken Miss Asta's heart." "Ah! It did, sir. At first I thought the poor child would have gone out of her mind. She was so devoted to him. Mr Shaw was also very fond of him, I know, for I once heard him say that he was the only man he would choose as Miss Asta's husband." "When did he say that?" "He was sitting in the smoking-room with a friend of his--one of the justices--Sir Gilbert Campbell, one evening after dinner, about a fortnight before the poor young gentleman died. I happened to be; passing and overheard his words." I pondered for a moment. Either Shaw was a past-master in the art of preparing a _coup_, or else Guy's surmises were wrong. Here, in the intimacy of the family, it was declared that Shaw was devoted to Asta. Certainly my own observations went to confirm that supposition. "I wonder who knows Mr Shaw's whereabouts?" I said presently. "I want to communicate with him upon a very important matter."