Cecily shook her head.
“Oh, no. He walked as far as Crow's Inn—up to the archway with me.”
The inspector was drawing a small parcel from his pocket. Laying back the tissue paper he slowly shook out the white glove he had shown to John Walls.
“Have you ever seen this before, Miss Hoyle?”
The girl leaned forward and looked at it more closely.
“No, I am sure I have not.”
“It is not yours?”
Cecily shook her head.
“I could not afford anything like that. It is a very expensive glove—French I should say.”
“That glove was found beside the writing-table in Mr. Bechcombe's private room this afternoon,” the inspector said impressively.