He gave Sapcote some further instructions about the disposal of Peter Hay's body, then he turned to the inspector.
“I suppose, later on, you'd better take Peter Hay's fingerprints. It's only a precaution, for I don't think we'll need them; but we may as well have them on record. There's nothing more for us to do here at present so far as I can see.”
He led the way out of the cottage. The constable locked the door, pocketed the key, produced a bicycle from behind the house, and cycled off in haste down the avenue.
Sir Clinton led his companions round to the back of the cottage; but an inspection of the dead man's menagerie yielded nothing which interested any of them, so far as the matter in hand was concerned.
“Let's sit down on the seat here,” the chief constable suggested, as they returned to the front garden. “We'll have to wait for these people from the hotel; and it won't do any harm to put together the facts we've got, before we pick up anything further.”
“You're sure it isn't a mare's nest then?” Armadale inquired cautiously.
“I'm surprised that Dr. Rafford didn't go a bit further with his ideas,” Sir Clinton returned indifferently. “In any case, there's the matter of that Foxhills' silver to be cleared up now.”
Chapter IV.
What Happened in the Night
Sir Clinton took out his cigarette-case and handed it to his companions in turn.
“Let's have the unofficial view first,” he suggested. “What do you make of it all, squire, in the light of the classics?”