“Yes, that's a cigarette-holder of mine. I recognise it by the fly in it.”
“When did you discover that you had lost it?”
Silverdale was obviously at a loss.
“I can't tell you. Ten days ago or so, I should think.”
“Was it before or after the murder of your maid that you missed it? Think carefully.”
“I can't remember,” Silverdale explained. “I didn't note it down in a diary or anything of that sort, of course. I use two or three holders. I leave them in the pockets of different suits. Naturally if one of them goes a-missing, I simply use one of the others; and perhaps the missing one may turn up later. I can't give you any exact date when this one went astray.”
Flamborough returned the holder to his pocket.
“You play the banjo, don't you, Dr. Silverdale?”
Silverdale seemed completely astounded by this question.
“I used to do so,” he admitted, “but I haven't played for quite a long time. The banjo isn't much in request nowadays.”