‘Yes, but they had found nothing. And I knew how anxious you were to find out anything that might be discovered about Feather-stone’s suicide.’
‘Was that your reason for taking the rooms?’ Simon Lock sneered.
‘Why not?’ said Oakley. ‘Why should it not have been my reason? I have always been loyal to you, sir.’
‘Well, well, did you find anything interesting, any trace of evidence that might clear up the mystery?’
‘There was apparently nothing in the rooms except the ordinary furniture of an ordinary lodging. In the bedroom a bed, a dressing-table, a washstand, a small table, a small wardrobe, two chairs, a small carpet, a few framed prints, and some nails behind the door. Nothing that could be called evidence. In the sitting-room—rather more elaborately furnished—were a dining-table, six chairs, an easy-chair, a firescreen, a large carpet, two footstools, a small sideboard, an old “Canterbury,” a mirror, some oleographs framed in German gold, and a few vases on the mantelpiece. Here is one of the vases.’
Mr. Oakley jumped from the table and took from Simon Lock’s own mantelpiece a small vase, whose intruding presence Simon Lock had not noticed there. Mr. Oakley handed it carefully to Mr. Lock.
‘Do you notice anything peculiar about it?’ he asked.
Simon Lock examined the vase attentively. It was in the shape of a cylinder, about seven inches high and three inches in diameter, and evidently a Staffordshire imitation of classic pottery. The ground-colour of the exterior was a brilliant red, and on this red were depicted several classic figures in white, with black outlines. Round the top edge the vase had been gilded. The interior surface of the vase was highly glazed.
‘No,’ said Simon Lock, ‘I see nothing peculiar about it.’
‘Neither did I at first, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley; ‘but see here.’