With a disappointed air he led the way out of the room. On the landing he paused. His keen gaze had rested for a moment on a travelling bag which stood under a table. There were the remains of a number of labels upon it and he scanned them carefully. There was no sufficient of any one of them left for identification.
"He's a clever devil," he whispered.
Then he opened the bag and again his countenance lightened. Inside was an empty bottle bearing the label of a London chemist, with the additional superscription—"Peroxide of Hydrogen."
"The fair hair is accounted for," commented Forrest. "And as for the dye which would restore his locks to their natural colour, I presume he has it under lock and key."
He slipped the bottle into his pocket and returned downstairs, I following at his heels.
"There's not enough at present against him to warrant his arrest," he said, when we were again in the sitting-room.
"Then why not have a look round his workshops," I suggested.
"His what?" queried Forrest, eagerly.
"Haven't I ever mentioned them to you? Haven't you ever heard that Mannering spends all his spare time in experimental motor construction?" I asked in surprise.
"I think I have heard it mentioned, but until this moment I have always thought it was chaff," he replied.