Gimblet left the gun-room quietly; and after some more exploring discovered the way to the back premises.

In the pantry he found Blanston, whom he invited to follow him to the deserted billiard-room for a few minutes' conversation.

"You know," he told him, "Miss Byrne and your new young master want me to examine the evidence that Sir David Southern is the author of this terrible crime."

"I'm sure I wish, sir," said the man, "that you could prove he never did it. A very nice young gentleman, sir, Sir David has always been; it seems dreadful to think of him lifting his hand against his uncle. I'm sure it ought to be a warning to us all to keep our tempers, but of course it was very hard on Sir David to have his dog shot before his very eyes."

"No doubt," agreed Gimblet. "You weren't there when it happened, I suppose?"

"No, sir, but I heard about it from one of the keepers, and Sir David was very much put out about it, so he says; and I quite believe it, seeing how fond he was of the poor creature. Always had it to sleep in his room, he did, sir, though it was rather an offensive animal to the nose, to my way of thinking. But these young gentlemen what are always smoking cigarettes get to lose their sense of smell, I've often noticed that, sir. Oh, I understand he was very angry indeed, sir, but I should hardly have thought he would go so far as to take his uncle's life. Knowing him, as I have done, from a child, I may say I shouldn't hardly have thought it of him, sir."