"Wait a moment," said Gatton. "Did you look about you at all before
opening this door?"

"Only long enough to find where it was, sir. Just about as long as I
showed you."

"All right. Go on, then."

We followed Bolton out into a very narrow hedge-bordered path,
evidently a tradesman's entrance, and he turned and locked the door
behind him. Slipping the keys into his pocket, he tramped stolidly out
to the main road whereon we emerged immediately beside the garage.

"Ah," murmured Gatton. "Now give me the keys," and as the man did so:
"Throughout all this time did you see or hear anything of an unusual
nature?"

Bolton removed his bowler once more. I had gathered by this time that
he regarded fresh air as an aid to reflection.

"Well, sir," he replied in a puzzled way, "that first door--"

"Well," said Gatton, as the man hesitated.

"It seemed to open more easily just now than it did last night. There
seemed to be a sort of hitch before when it was about half-way open."

"Perhaps the crate was in the way?" suggested Gatton. "Except for the
absence of the crate do you notice anything different, anything
missing, or anything there now that was not there before?"