He, probably, is an adventurer, and a criminous
one, like Baxter, and--he is also probably the owner of the
handkerchief which Mr. Cazalette found, stained with Salter Quick's
blood!"

Lorrimore paused a moment, looking round to see how this impressed us.
The last suggestion was new to me, but I saw its reasonableness and
nodded. Lorrimore nodded back, and continued.

"Now a last word," he said. "I, personally, haven't a doubt that these
three, one or other of 'em, murdered the Quicks, and that they're now
going to take up that swag which Baxter and the dishonest bank-manager
safely planted somewhere. But--I don't believe it's buried or secreted
in any out-of-the-way place on the coast. I know where I should look
for it, and where Scarterfield ought to search for it."

"Where, then?" I exclaimed.

"Well," he answered, "the thing is--to consider what those fellows
were likely to do with the old monastic plate and the jewels and so on
when they'd got them. They probably knew that the ancient chalices,
reliquaries, and that sort of thing would fetch big prices, sold
privately to collectors--especially to American collectors, who, as
everybody knows, are not at all squeamish or particular about the
antecedents of property so long as they secure it. I should say that
Baxter, acting for his partner in crime, stored these things, and has
waited for a favourable opportunity to resume possession of them. I
incline to the opinion that he stored them at Hartlepool, or at
Newcastle, or at South-Shields--at any place whence they could easily
be transferred by ship. He may, indeed, have stored them at Liverpool,
for easy transit across the Atlantic. I don't believe in the theory
that they're planted in some hole-and-corner of the coast."

"In that case, what becomes of Salter Quick's search for the graves of
the Netherfields?" I suggested.

"Can't say," replied Lorrimore, with a shrug of his shoulders. "But
Salter Quick may have got hold of the wrong tale, or half a tale, or
mixed things up. Anyway, that's my opinion--that this stolen property
is not cached anywhere, but is somewhere within four respectable
walls, and if I were Scarterfield, I should communicate with stores
and repositories asking for information about goods left with them
some time ago and not yet reclaimed."

"Good idea!" agreed Mr. Raven. "Much more likely than the buried
treasure notion."

"To which, however, I incline," I said stubbornly. "When Salter