Ravensdene Court. Fletcher Joseph Smith

easy enough," said I. "The police have it – and all the rest of Quick's belongings. If we walked over to the police-station, the inspector would willingly show it to you."

      I saw that this proposition attracted her – she was not beyond feeling something of the fascination which is exercised upon some people by the inspection of the relics of strange crimes.

      "Let us go, then," she said. "This afternoon?"

      I had a mind, myself, to have another look at that tobacco-box; Mr. Cazalette's hints about it, and his mysterious secrecy regarding his photographic experiments, made me inquisitive. So after lunch that day Miss Raven and I walked across country to the police-station, where we were shown into the presence of the inspector, who, in the midst of his politeness, frankly showed his wonder at our pilgrimage.

      "We have come with an object," said I, giving him an informing glance. "Miss Raven, like most ladies, is not devoid of curiosity. She wishes to see that metal tobacco-box which was found on Salter Quick."

      The inspector laughed.

      "Oh!" he exclaimed. "The thing that the old gentleman – what's his name? Mr. Cazalette? – was so keen about photographing. Why, I don't know – I saw nothing but two or three surface scratches inside the lid. Has he discovered anything?"

      "That," I answered, "is only known to Mr. Cazalette himself. He preserves a strict silence on that point. He is very mysterious about the matter. It is his secrecy, and his mystery, that makes Miss Raven inquisitive."

      "Well," remarked the inspector, indulgently, "it's a curiosity that can very easily be satisfied. I've got all Quick's belongings here – just as they were put together after being exhibited before the coroner." He unlocked a cupboard and pointed to two bundles – one, a large one, was done up in linen; the other, a small one, in a wrapping of canvas. "That," he continued, pointing to the linen-covered package, "contains his clothing; this, his effects: his money, watch and chain, and so on. It's sealed, as you see, but we can put fresh seals on after breaking these."

      "Very kind of you to take so much trouble," said Miss Raven. "All to satisfy a mere whim."

      The inspector assured her that it was no trouble, and broke the seals of the small, carefully-wrapped package. There, neatly done up, were the dead man's effects, even down to his pipe and pouch. His money was there, notes, gold, silver, copper; there was a stump of lead-pencil and a bit of string; every single thing found upon him had been kept. But the tobacco-box was not there.

      "I – I don't see it!" exclaimed the inspector. "How's this?"

      He turned the things over again, and yet again – there was no tobacco-box. And at that, evidently vexed and perplexed, he rang a bell and asked for a particular constable, who presently entered. The inspector indicated the various properties.

      "Didn't you put these things together when the inquest was over?" he demanded. "They were all lying on the table at the inquest – we showed them there. I told you to put them up and bring them here and seal them."

      "I did, sir," answered the man. "I put together everything that was on the table, at once. The package was never out of my hands till I got it here, and sealed it. Sergeant Brown and myself counted the money, sir."

      "The money is all right," observed the inspector. "But there's a metal box – a tobacco-box – missing. Do you remember it?"

      "Can't say that I do, sir," replied the constable. "I packed up everything that was there."

      The inspector nodded a dismissal; when we were alone again, he turned to Miss Raven and me with a queer expression.

      "That box has been abstracted at the inquest!" he said, "Now then! – by whom? – and why?"

      CHAPTER VII

      YELLOWFACE

      It was very evident that the inspector was considerably puzzled, not to say upset, by the disappearance of the tobacco-box, and I fancied that I saw the real reason of his discomfiture. He had poohpoohed Mr. Cazalette's almost senile eagerness about the thing, treating his request as of no importance; now he suddenly discovered that somebody had conceived a remarkable interest in the tobacco-box and had cleverly annexed it – under his very eyes – and he was angry with himself for his lack of care and perception. I was not indisposed to banter him a little.

      "The second of your questions might be easily answered," I said. "The thing has been appropriated because somebody believes, as Mr. Cazalette evidently does, or did, that there may be a clue in those scratches, or marks, on the inside of the lid. But as to who it was that believed this, and managed to secrete the box – that's a far different matter!"

      He was thinking, and presently he nodded his head.

      "I can call to mind everybody who sat round that table, where these things were laid out," he remarked, confidently. "There were two or three officials, like myself. There was our surgeon and Dr. Lorrimore. Two or three of the country gentlemen – all magistrates; all well known to me. And at the foot of the table there were a couple of reporters: I know them, too, well enough. Now, who, out of that lot, would be likely to steal – for that's what it comes to – this tobacco-box? A thing that had scarcely been mentioned – if at all – during the proceedings!"