"There is one other thing," Burton said slowly. "It is rather a coincidence, sir, that we should have met just here. I see that you have been into Idlemay House. I wonder whether you would lend me the keys? I will return them to the office, with pleasure, but I should very much like to go in myself for a few minutes."
Mr. Waddington stared at his late employee, thoroughly puzzled.
"If you aren't a caution!" he exclaimed. "What the mischief do you want to go in there for?"
Burton smiled.
"I should like to see if that little room where the old Egyptian died has been disturbed since I was there, sir."
Mr. Waddington hesitated. Then he turned and led the way.
"I'd forgotten all about that," he said. "Come along, I'll go in with you."
They crossed the road, ascended the steps, and in a few minutes they were inside the house. The place smelt very musty and uninhabited. Burton delicately avoided the subject of its being still unlet. The little chamber on the right of the hall was as dark as ever. Burton felt his heart beat quickly as a little waft of familiar perfume swept out to him at the opening of the door. Mr. Waddington struck a match and held it over his head.
"So this is the room," he remarked. "Dashed if I've ever been in it!
It wants cleaning out and fumigating badly. What's this?"
He picked up the sheet of paper, which was lying exactly as Burton had left it. Then he lifted up the little dwarf tree and looked at it.