“That saves a lot of bother,” said Sir Clinton, thankfully. “I was just going to fish in a fresh direction to get that bit of information. I’m quite satisfied now.”
Cecil seemed to pay little attention to the Chief Constable’s last remark. His eyes went round to the shattered thing that had been his brother.
“I’d no notion it was as bad as all this,” he said, more to himself than to the others. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have been so bitter about things.”
The sergeant and constables appeared at the edge of the clearing.
“Seen all you want to see, Inspector?” asked Sir Clinton. “Then in that case we can leave the body in charge of the sergeant. I see they’ve got a stretcher with them. They can take it down to Ravensthorpe.”
Armadale rapidly gave the necessary orders to his subordinates.
“Now, Inspector, I think we’ll go over to Ravensthorpe ourselves. I want to see that chauffeur again. Something’s occurred to me.”
As the three men walked through the belt of woodland Sir Clinton turned to Cecil.
“There’s one point I’d like to have cleared up. Do you know if Maurice had any visitors in the last three months or so—people who wanted to see the collection?”
Cecil reflected for a time before he could recall the facts.