we entered the room. "Sir Marcus was a good master and if he was
sleeping away from home he never failed to advise me, so that I knew
even before the dreadful news reached me that something was amiss."

He was quite unstrung and his voice was unsteady. The reputation of
the late baronet had been one which I personally did not envy him, but
whatever his faults, and I knew they had been many, he had evidently
possessed the redeeming virtue of being a good employer.

"A couple of hours' sleep would make a new man of you," said Gatton
kindly. "I understand your feelings, but no amount of sorrow can mend
matters, unfortunately. Now, I don't want to worry you, but there are
one or two points which I must ask you to clear up. In the first place
did you ever see this before?"

From his pocket he took out the little figure of Bâst, the
cat-goddess, and held it up before Morris.

The man stared at it with lack-luster eyes, scratching his unshaven
chin; then he shook his head slowly.

"Never," he declared. "No, I am positive I never saw a figure like
that before."

"Then, secondly," continued Gatton, "was your master ever in Egypt?"

"Not that I am aware of; certainly not since I have been with him--six
years on the thirty-first of this month."

"Ah," said Gatton. "Now, when did you last see Sir Marcus?"