"Yes, sir," said Thompson, when Cleek had questioned him. "Quite plain I heard it: 'Imperial Mansions, Shepherd's Bush,' and I dare say I could find out from the cabman himself. He's sure to be on the stand outside."
Dismissed on this errand, he left the gallery, while Cleek wandered to the window, which looked out on a little courtyard. His eyes noted almost unconsciously the presence of a large moving van standing near the gateway to the street.
"Oh, Mr. Belthouse," he exclaimed, "going to move the blessed statues in a furniture van?"
Mr. Belthouse joined him, but his voice was even more irritable as he exclaimed:
"Certainly not; that must be for the effects of the caretaker. She has lived in the basement, but she said she was moving as soon as the exhibition was over. And now, perhaps, Mr. Headland, if you don't mind my saying so, my time is valuable. So if you will ask me anything else you want to know——?"
Cleek stopped short in his prowl at the top end of the gallery, and stood, looking the very picture of perplexity.
"This case fair stumps me, Mr. Belthouse, I must say. Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me where this door leads to?"
He touched the frame of a door almost concealed by a huge picture which was hung across it.
"That? Oh, that, I believe, opens on to a passage which leads to the caretaker's quarters. Very estimable people, the Perrys, mother and daughter, and I should say the Institute people will be sorry to lose them. They are moving, as you noticed, and into the country. This door, though, has been kept locked and screwed up—you can see the screws for yourself, can't you?—so there has been no possible means of ingress or egress. Anything else, Mr. Headland?"