But the search of Foss’s bedroom yielded at first nothing of much interest.
“This doesn’t look as if that chauffeur had been telling the truth,” Armadale pointed out, when they found all Foss’s clothes arranged quite normally in wardrobe and drawers. “Foss himself had made no preparations for moving, that’s evident. I’ll see that chauffeur again and go into the matter more carefully.”
“You might as well,” Sir Clinton concurred. “But I doubt if you’ll get him to shift from his story. He seemed to be very clear about the main point, though he was weak in details.”
They subjected all Foss’s belongings to a careful scrutiny.
“No name marked on any of the linen; no tags on any of the suits; no labels inside the jacket pockets,” Inspector Armadale pointed out. “He seems to have been very anxious not to advertise his identity. And no papers of any sort. It looks a bit queer, doesn’t it?”
As he spoke, he noticed a small leather case standing in a corner.
“Hullo, here’s an attaché case. Perhaps his papers are in it.”
He crossed over and picked up the case, but as he did so an expression of surprise crossed his face.
“This thing’s as heavy as lead! It must weigh ten or twelve pounds at least!”
“It’s not an attaché case,” Sir Clinton pointed out. “Look at the ends of it.”