Matherfield looked in the direction indicated, and shook his head.
"Not the slightest idea!" he answered. "I see it's a photograph of some old church or other—that's all."
"That's the famous Parish Church of Sellithwaite!" said Hetherwick. "One of the very finest in England! I had a look at it—only a mere look—when I was down there. Now then, what's this man doing with a picture of Sellithwaite Parish Church in his rooms? Hannaford came from Sellithwaite!"
"That's a mighty significant thing, anyway," agreed Matherfield. "We're getting at something this morning!" He looked more carefully at the photograph. "Grand old building, as you say," he continued. "Of course, the mere fact of his having it put up there shows that he's some interest in it. Sellithwaite man, likely. But we'll find all that out. Now let's look round."
There was little to see, Hetherwick thought. The flat consisted of a sitting-room and bedroom and a small bathroom. The furniture was plain, old, rather shabby; the whole place suggested that its occupant was not over well-to-do; the only signs of affluence to be seen were manifested in the toilet articles on the dressing-table, in a luxurious, if well-worn, dressing-gown which hung on the rail of the bed, and in the presence of carefully folded and pressed garments laid out in the bedroom. There were a few books, chiefly medical treatises, in shelves in the sitting-room; a few personal pictures, mainly of college and school groups, on the walls; and a desk in the centre, littered with more books, writing materials, and papers. Matherfield began to turn them over.
"See that?" he exclaimed suddenly, pointing to a movable calendar which stood on the top ledge of the desk. "Notice the date? March 18th! That's the day on which Hannaford got his quietus. At least, strictly speaking, it was the day before. Hannaford actually died on the nineteenth—about—what was it?—very early in the morning, anyway. What's one to gather from this?—that Ambrose hasn't been here since the eighteenth. So—hallo!"
Turning over the loose papers that lay about the blotting-pad, he had suddenly lighted upon a telegram; just as suddenly he thrust it into Hetherwick's hands.
"Look at that!" he exclaimed. "Now, that is a find! Biggest we've ever had—so far!"
Hetherwick read the apparently innocent message.
"All right. Will meet you Victoria bookstall this evening as suggested.