"Certainly in that case he would be perfectly justified in saying that he didn't send it out of the house," said Quarles.
"It is most improbable," I said. "To begin with, Mr. Ottershaw wished to be cremated, so would hardly leave any such instructions. And, further, Sims saw him placed in his coffin, and says nothing was buried with the body."
"It is an interesting problem," said the professor; "but one does not feel very much inclined to help the Bryants."
"Then you have a theory?" I asked.
"I haven't got so far as theory; I am only rather keen to try my wits. There is a shadowy idea at the back of my brain which may be gone by morning. If it hasn't, we'll go and see Sims."
Next morning when I went to Chelsea, as I had arranged to do, I found Quarles waiting for me, and we went to Fulham together. Sims had two rooms in his niece's house, but took his meals with the family. We went into his sitting room and he was quite ready to talk about Mr. Ottershaw. I told him that Quarles was a gentleman who thought he could find the hidden money.
"I shall be very glad if he does," said Sims. "The Bryants will know then that I had nothing to do with it. Mr. Charles has been the worst; but since I tried to sell that pin Mr. George has been as bad."
"I take it you don't like the Bryants," said Quarles.
"I don't dislike them, only when they bother me."
"Your master didn't like them?"