Providence. "I wasn't payin' particular attention,
yet I twigged you the minute you popped up."

"So it is reasonable to suppose that if any one had appeared in that
same place this morning and taken steady aim at Mr. Fenley, you would
have twigged him, too."

"It strikes me that way, sir."

"Did you see nothing--not even a puff of smoke? You must certainly
have looked at the wood when you heard the shot."

"I did, sir. Not a leaf moved. Just a couple of pheasants flew out,
and the rooks around the house kicked up such a row that I didn't know
the Guv'nor was down till Harris shouted."

"Where did the pheasants fly from?"

"They kem out a bit below the rock; but they were risin' birds, an'
may have started from the ground higher up."

"No birds were startled before the shot was fired?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir. But June pheasants are very tame, and they
lie marvelous close. A pheasant would just as soon run as fly."

The detectives began a detailed inquiry almost at once. It covered the
ground already traversed, and the only new incident happened when
Hilton Fenley, at the moment repeating his evidence, was called to the
telephone.

"If either of you cares to smoke there are cigars and Virginia
cigarettes on the sideboard," he said. "Or, if you prefer Turkish,
here are some," and he laid a gold case on the table. Furneaux grabbed
it when the door had closed.

"All neurotics use Turkish cigarettes," he said solemnly. "Ah, I
guessed it! A strong, vile, scented brand!"

"Sometimes, my dear Charles, you talk rubbish," sighed Winter.

"Maybe. I never think or smoke it. 'Language was given us to conceal
our thoughts,' said Talleyrand. I have always admired Talleyrand,
'that rather middling bishop but very eminent knave,' as de Quincey
called him. '_Cre nom!_ I wonder what de Quincey meant by 'middling.'
A man who could keep in the front rank under the Bourbons, during the
Revolution, with Napoleon, and back again under the Bourbons, and yet
die in bed, must have been superhuman. St. Peter, in his stead, would
have lost his napper at least four times."

Winter stirred uneasily, and gazed out across the Italian garden and
park, for the detectives were again installed in the dining-room.

"What about that artist, Trenholme?" he said after a pause.

"We'll look him up. Before leaving this house I want to peep into
various rooms. And there's Tomlinson. Tomlinson is a rich mine. Do
leave him to me. I'll dig in