It required very little to start Miss Fordingbridge on the subject; and in a few minutes of eager explanation she had laid before them the whole matter of her missing relation. As her narrative proceeded, Sir Clinton could see the expression of annoyance deepening on her brother's features.
“And so you understand, Sir Clinton, I kept everything in his room just as it used to be; so that when he comes back again he'll find nothing strange. It'll just be as if he'd only left us for a week-end.”
Wendover noticed something pathetic in her attitude. For a moment the normal angularity and fussiness seemed to have left her manner.
“Poor soul!” he reflected. “Another case of unsatisfied maternity, I suppose. She seems to have adored this nephew of hers.”
Paul Fordingbridge seemed to think that enough time had been spent on the family's private affairs.
“Is there anything more that you'd care to see?” he asked Sir Clinton, in an indifferent tone.
The chief constable seemed to have been interested in Miss Fordingbridge's tale.
“Just a moment,” he said half-apologetically to Paul Fordingbridge. “I'd like to be sure about one or two points.”
He crossed the room and examined the window-catches with some care.
“Now, Miss Fordingbridge,” he said, as he turned back after finding the fastenings intact like the others, “this is a room which you're sure to remember accurately, since you say you looked after it yourself. Can you see anything missing from it?”