"A Jersey man. You think I am adopting some of the methods of the
French juge d'instruction, eh?"

"No. I cannot bring myself to believe that you regard me as a
murderer."

The three passed out into the hall. Mr. and Mrs. Bates immediately
showed scared faces at the kitchen door.

"It's all right, Bates," said Theydon airily. "I'm not a prisoner.
I'll be with you again in a few minutes."

But Bates was profoundly disturbed.

"Wot beats me," he said to his wife when they were alone, "is why that
little ferret wanted to see the guv'nor's clothes. I looked 'em over
carefully afterwards, an' there wasn't a speck on 'em except some
spots of rain on the coat collar. It's a queer business, no matter how
you look at it. Mr. Theydon's manner was strange when he kem in last
night. He seemed to be list'nin' for something. I don't know wot to
make of it, Eliza. I reely don't."

In effect, since no man is a hero to his valet, what would Tomlinson,
butler at No. 11 Fortescue Square, have thought of his master if told
that Mrs. Lester's last known visitor was James Creighton Forbes?

CHAPTER IV

A TELEPHONIC TALK AND ITS CONSEQUENCES