"H'm," said Gatton, "I'm not so sure. The deeper we go the darker it gets. A man has been scouring the neighborhood all day in quest of the carter who delivered the crate to the docks, but so far without results. I consider it a very important point that we should learn not only how and when the crate was collected, but when and by whom it was delivered at the garage."
"Another question," I said: "although I believe I know the answer. Was it a man or a woman who ordered the cab?"
"Both in the case of Marie and in the case of the cab-rank," replied Gatton, "it was a woman's voice that spoke."
"Thank God, one doubt is resolved!" I said. "It cannot possibly have been Isobel in either of these cases!"
"Right!" agreed Gatton, promptly. "I am as glad as you are. There is clearly a second woman in the case; yet I can't bring myself to believe that this elaborate scheme was the work of a woman."
"Not of a jealous woman?" I suggested.
"Not of any woman," he replied. "Besides—who put the body into the crate? What kind of a woman would it be who could do a deed like that?"
"In other words," said I, "you are still without a ghost of a clew to the identity of the person who committed the murder, and to the means employed?"
Resting his pipe upon an ash-tray, the Inspector took up from my writing-table the little image of Bâst and held it up between finger and thumb.
"We always come back to the green cat," he said slowly. "I will trouble you now, Mr. Addison, for the history of such a little image as this."