"A week ago yesterday, sir. She told me that all the servants except the
butler were going down to Dellmere the next day--that is Sir Horace's
country place--and that Sir Horace was going to Scotland for the
shooting and would put in some weeks at Dellmere after the shooting
season was over."

"And are you sure he hasn't returned?"

"Quite, sir. I saw Hill, the butler, only yesterday morning, and he
told me that his master was sure to be in Scotland for at least a
month longer."

"It's very strange," muttered the inspector, half to himself. "It will be
a deuced awkward situation to face if Scotland Yard has been hoaxed."

"Beg your pardon, sir, but is there anything wrong about Sir Horace?"

"Yes. Scotland Yard has received a report that he has been murdered."

Flack's surprise was so great that it lifted the lid of official humility
which habitually covered his natural feelings.

"Murdered!" he exclaimed. "Sir Horace Fewbanks murdered? You
don't say so!"

"But I do say so. I've just said so," retorted Inspector Seldon
irritably. He was angry at the fact that the information, whether true or
false, had gone direct to Scotland Yard instead of reaching him first.