While waiting for Armadale, Sir Clinton had a few moments in which to consider the information he had just received.
“This looks like Part II of the Ravensthorpe affair,” he reflected. “Foss’s only connection with Ravensthorpe was the business of these Medusa Medallions. First one has the theft of the replicas; now comes the murder of this American agent. It’s highly improbable that two things like that could be completely independent.”
His cogitation was interrupted by the entry of Armadale, and in a few words Sir Clinton gave him the fresh information which had come to hand.
“We’ll go up there at once in my car, Inspector. Get the necessary things together, please. Don’t forget the big camera. We may need it. And the constable who does photography for us had better come along also.”
Inspector Armadale wasted no time. In a very few minutes they were on the road. As he drove, Sir Clinton was silent; and Armadale’s attempt to extract further information from him was a complete failure.
“You know as much as I do, Inspector,” the Chief Constable pointed out. “Let’s keep clear of any preconceived ideas until we see how the land lies up yonder.”
When they reached Ravensthorpe, they found Michael Clifton waiting for them at the door.
“There are only two people who seem to know anything definite about things,” he replied to the Chief Constable’s first inquiry. “Joan’s one of them, but she really knows nothing to speak of. The other witness is Foss’s man—Marden’s his name. Will you have a look at the body first of all, and then see Joan and this fellow?”
Sir Clinton nodded his acquiescence and the party followed Michael to the museum. Mold, the keeper, was again on guard at the door of the room, and Sir Clinton made a gesture of recognition as he passed in, followed by Armadale.
A cursory glance showed Foss’s body lying in one of the bays formed by the show-cases round the wall. The Inspector went forward, knelt down, and held a pocket-mirror to the dead man’s lips.