his money and his watch were found on him untouched."

The inspector shook his head.

"I'm not so sure," he remarked. "There's one thing that's certain--the
man's clothes had been searched. Look here!"

He turned to Quick's garments, which had been removed, preparatory to
laying out the body in decent array for interment, and picked up the
waistcoat. Within the right side, made in the lining, there was a
pocket, secured by a stout button. That pocket had been turned inside
out; so, too, had a pocket in the left hip of the trousers,
corresponding to that on the right in which Quick had carried the
revolver that he had shown to us at the inn. The waistcoat was a
thick, quilted affair--its lining, here and there, had been ripped
open by a knife. And the lining of the man's hat had been torn out,
too, and thrust roughly into place again: clearly, whoever killed him
had searched for something.

"It wasn't money they were after," observed the inspector, "but there
was an object. He'd that on him that his murderer was anxious to get.
And the fact that the murderer left all this gold untouched is the
worst feature of the affair--from our point of view."

"Why, now?" inquired Mr. Raven.

"Because, sir, it shows that the murderer, whoever he was, had plenty
of money on him," replied the inspector grimly. "And as he had, he'd
have little difficulty in getting away. Probably he got an early
morning train, north or south, and is hundreds of miles off by this
time. But we must do our best--and we'll get to work now."

Leaving everything to the police--obviously with relief and
thankfulness--Mr. Raven retired from the scene, inviting the two
medical men and the inspector into the house with him, to take, as he
phrased, a little needful refreshment; he sent out a servant to
minister to the constables in the same fashion. Leaving him and his
guests in the morning-room and refusing Mr. Cazalette's invitation to
join him in his photographic enterprise, I turned into the big hall
and there found Miss Raven. I was glad to find her alone; the mere
sight of her, in her morning freshness, was welcome after the gruesome
business in which I had just been engaged. I think she saw something
of my thoughts in my face, for she turned to me sympathetically.

"What a very unfortunate thing that this should have happened at the
very beginning of your visit!" she exclaimed. "Didn't it give you an
awful shock, to find that poor fellow?--so unexp