"I don't know."
"She must have some motive."
"Women don't require a motive for anything," said Naball, imperturbably proceeding to examine the ground under the window, through which the thief had made his exit. The flower-bed was filled with tall hollyhocks, and some of these were broken as if some heavy body had fallen from above.
"He clambered down by the ivy," murmured Naball to himself, as he bent down. "The ivy is broken here and there; the flowers are also broken, so he fell on them in a heap--probably having missed his footing. Humph! Clever man, as he did not step again on the flower-bed, but jumped from where he fell on to the grass. Humph! grass hard and rather dry; no chance of footmarks. Question is, which way did he go?"
"By the gate, of course," said Fenton impatiently.
The detective walked across the lawn to the gate, but could find no trace of footmarks, as the lawn was dry, and the footpath, leading out into the pavement of the street was asphalted.
"No; he did not go by the gate, as a man in such rags as Villiers would have been sure to be seen coming out of a private house. That would be suspicious; besides, he would have been afraid."
"Of the police?"
"Exactly; he's been in prison two or three times since his connection with the Midas case, and has got a wholesome dread of the law. No; he did not go by the gate, but by the river."
"The river!" repeated Fenton, in amazement.