"Will your conviction of that help at all?" inquired Neale.
"It'll help me," replied the detective quickly. "I'm gradually getting some ideas. But I shan't tell Polke—nor anybody else—of it. You can tell Miss Fosdyke if you like—she'll understand: women have more intuition than men. Now I'm off—I want to get a wire away to London. Look here—drop in at the police-station when you get back. We shall examine Hollis's clothing, you know—there may be some clue to Horbury."
He hurried off towards the town, and Neale rejoined Betty. And as they slowly followed the detective, he told her what Starmidge had just said with such evident belief—and Betty understood, as Starmidge had prophesied, and she grew more thoughtful than ever.
"When are we going to find a way out of all this miserable business!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Are we any nearer a solution because of what's just happened? Does that help us to finding out what's become of my uncle?"
"I suppose one thing's sure to lead to another," said Neale. "That seems to be the detective's notion, anyhow. If Starmidge is so certain that Gabriel Chestermarke knew Hollis, he'll work that for all it's worth. It's my opinion—whatever that's worth!—that Hollis came down here to see the Chestermarkes. Did he see them? There's the problem. If one could only find out—that!"
"I wish you and I could do something—apart from the police," suggested Betty. "Isn't there anything we could do?"
Neale pointed ahead to the high roof of Joseph Chestermarke's house across the river.
"There's one thing I'd like to do—if I could," he answered. "I'd just like to know all the secrets of that place! That there are some I'm as certain as that we're crossing this moor. You see that queer-shaped structure—sort of conical chimney—sticking up amongst the trees in Joseph Chestermarke's garden? That's a workshop, or a laboratory, or something, in which Joseph spends his leisure moments. I'd like to know what he does there. But nobody knows! Nobody is ever allowed in that house, nor in the garden. I don't know a single soul in all Scarnham that's ever been inside either. I'm perfectly certain Mr. Horbury was never asked there. Once Joseph's across his thresholds, back or front, there's an end of him—till he comes out again!"
"But—he doesn't live entirely alone, does he?" asked Betty.
"As near as can be," replied Neale. "His entire staff consists of an old man and an old woman—man and wife—who've been with him—oh, ever since he was born, I believe! You may have seen the old man about the town—old Palfreman. Everybody knows him—queer, old-fashioned chap: he goes out to buy in whatever's wanted: the old woman never shows. That's the trio that live in there—a queer lot, aren't they?"