“At present,” he concluded, looking from one to the other, “the first thing is to find out where your brother was between half-past ten, when, I’m told by your butler, he left here, and early in the morning. You’ve no idea?”
“None,” said Harry. “He told us nothing.”
But Valencia shook her head.
“Scarcely that,” she said. “He told us something. Don’t you remember, Harry—just before he went?”
“Nothing definite,” replied Harry. “I gained no definite idea, anyway.”
“What did he tell you, Miss Markenmore?” inquired the Chief Constable.
“I remember perfectly,” answered Valencia. “He said he must go, because he had a business appointment in the neighbourhood. He said that where he was going, supper would be ready for him. But—that was all.”
“Not a hint as to where he was going—nor as to whom it was to see?”
“None!”
The group presently broke up into sections. Harborough and Mr. Fransemmery drew off into one corner of the room; Chilford and Harry into another; the Chief Constable and Valencia remained on the hearth, talking in low tones. Suddenly the door was thrown open, and Braxfield, still lachrymose, announced, in a half-whisper: