An hour later he presented himself at the back door of Greystones, and after an exchange of compliments with Mrs. Simmons, a plump lady who begged him to get along, do, retired with her somewhat disapproving husband into the butler's pantry.
"Tell me this, now!" he said. "How many hats has young Fletcher got?"
"I beg pardon?" said Simmons blankly.
The Sergeant repeated his question.
"I regret to say, Sergeant, that Mr. Neville possesses only one hat."
"Is that so? And not much of a hat either, from the look on your face."
"It is shabbier than one cares to see upon a gentleman's head," replied Simmons, but added rather hastily: "For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."
"Here!" said the Sergeant dangerously. "You can drop that right away! I hear quite enough of that sort of talk from your friend Glass. Let's stick to hats. I suppose your late master had any number of them?"
"Mr. Fletcher was always very well dressed."
"What's been done with his hats? Packed up, or given away, or something?"